The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!
by Saddened Soul
Summary: AU The Silent Hill fanfiction to end all Silent Hill fanfiction.
1. Princess Heart to the Rescue!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 01: Princess Heart to the Rescue!**

With a final, ragged gasp, the man took hold of the wooden casket and threw off the lid. It fell onto the mud soundlessly. He coughed, trying to regain his composure; the cemetery was thick and wet with fog. Surrounding him were leaves of crimson paper, strewn about the gravesite. He clawed his way to the edge of the casket and peered inside. His eyes went wide with horror. He raised a thin, bony hand to his mouth and screamed.

Behind him, the gate opened, its rusty hinges screeching. The man turned, whimpering, and sobbed. "What are you?" he breathed.

The hooded figure, standing tall and imposing in the mist, smiled. "Despair," he said quietly.

In the empty hollow of the casket, burnt into the wood, was "11121."

---

An alarm buzzed off within the bright, sunlit bedroom, followed by a cheerful, smug voice. "Good morning, Ashfield!" the announcer exclaimed. "We're back on and listening for your requests! So while you're on the commute or sipping that coffee, send in your calls! In the meantime, let's lend an ear to Seventh Time's Wonder!"

From under the shifting sheets of the bed, a sandy brunette head slowly emerged to the sound of guitars and mellow lyrics. Heather Cheryl Mason flopped up and sank into her pillows and the several stuffed animals sitting above her. She sighed and looked around at her cluttered room and the clothes littering the carpet. She smiled sheepishly, yawned and stretched.

"Another day," she said and stumbled for the restroom, tugging at her "I watch out for smoke alarms" nightshirt.

Down in the golden kitchen, fans spinning and radio playing, Harry Mason stood over the stove, pans sizzling and eggs cracking. He slung a dishrag over his shoulder, keeping a keen eye on the cooking show on the counter. A fluffy, small dog ran around Harry's feet, yipping happily.

"I'll feed you right now, Chip," he said, laughing himself. "Or maybe you'd like to try and make these omelets yourself?"

Heather bounded down the stairs, wearing a simple black tank top and jeans. Her tennis skidded on the linoleum and she leaned over the counter beside Harry, brow raised at the sight. "Isn't this, like, the tenth time you've tried to get these omelets, Dad?" she asked with a grin.

He glanced at her, smirking. "It's the _sixth_, for your information," he said, ruffling her hair. "Good morning, honey."

"'Morning, Dad," she said and turned her attention to the dog. "Chip!" she laughed, dancing around him. "What are you up to today?"

"Hey, stick around and try one of these," Harry said, looking back at her. "I need my number one taste-tester."

"Sorry," Heather said, going towards the kitchen table and grabbing her satchel. "I've got to meet Eileen at the Happy Burger today."

Harry frowned. "I guess it'll just be me and Chip, then," he said, and she giggled.

"I'll eat tomorrow; I promise." She kissed him on the cheek and snatched an apple from the bowl on the counter. "I'll take this to go. See you later!"

"I'll hold you to it!" Harry called after her

"And make sure to write today!" Harry laughed at the remark and watched her from the window as she skipped down the driveway and up the street. He sighed and mustered a weak smile. "Good girl," he said, looking at the photograph nearby, a smiling couple and a young girl between them.

---

Eileen Galvin sat at one of the tables outside the Happy Burger among a throng of other students. Her bright green eyes sparkled, vibrant, and she pushed some stray strands of brown hair out of her face. She sipped at her milkshake, clenching the straw beneath her teeth.

The morning sky was cloudy, the sun breaking through to her left. As she admired it, Heather plopped down beside her, brandishing her apple. "And look what Miss Galvin is munching on," she said. "That's not the healthiest thing, you know?"

"Shut up," Eileen said, smiling, and the two fist-bumped. "So, what's up, bitch? You're a little late today."

"You're the one who wanted to meet earlier, slut," Heather replied. "Was that milkshake worth it?"

Eileen grimaced. "Not really," she said, shrugging, "but it's okay. It's actually really fucking cold today. I wasn't expecting it."

"You're right," Heather said. "Should've worn a jacket." She eyed Eileen's sweater.

"Jealous, sand-vag?" Eileen asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wish, sperm-dumpster," Heather said and punched her lightly on the arm. "Come on, let's get going."

The two girls gathered their belongings and headed out to school. Behind them, a small orb of light danced in the air.

---

He saw her the instant she came into view. In fact, it was impossible _not_ to see her. Her blouse, her floral skirt, her chestnut hair clipped back—he could have pointed her out among a crowd of thousands of people. But those were just details. It was that imaginary light he had come to notice, the one that surrounded her like a nimbus. No one else had that aura, that beautiful aura. He felt a light smile touch his lips. Mary Shepherd. She was beautiful.

Then, as if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked at him. It was nothing more than a passing glance as she went on her way, cradling her books in the crook of her arm, but their eyes locked in that one moment, and she smiled as well.

"Goddamn, James, if you're so in love with the girl stop goggling and go sweep her off her feet already!" James shook his head, struck out of his daze, and looked up at the other boy who was standing beside the bench, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his brunet hair combed messily at the front.

"I'm not in love with her, Henry," James Sunderland replied quietly as he sat straight and adjusted his jacket.

"You could've fooled me," Henry Townshend said as he took a seat beside his friend. "You've been gawking at her like an idiot for the past few months, and I know she's been doing the same to you. Hell, do you two even talk?"

"Um—"

"Don't give me that romantic bullshit about how 'more than enough is said when we look into each other's eyes.' She's obviously into you, so why not go and pick the fruit while it's still ripe?"

James smiled wanly and stood. "I appreciate your help, Henry, but—it just isn't the right time."

"That's the oldest excuse in the book, and you know it," Henry said while doing the same. He peered out at the front expanse of Ashfield High School, shrugged, and turned to the main building. "Let's get going. The bell's going to ring in a couple of minutes."

"Yeah."

As they walked on, James sparked conversation.

"So, what about that new camera?" he asked, glancing at Henry as the boy blew out an exasperated whistle.

"Too expensive for the piss I make at Happy Burger, and, of course, good old son-of-a-bitch Will says it's trash," was the bitter response. Henry choked out a broken laugh. "To be honest with you, though, I don't know if I would've had the heart to get rid of ol' Jim."

He stopped and swung his backpack down to their feet. After fishing through it, Henry produced an older camera from the depths, chipped and worn. He frowned.

"Poor Jim. He's dying, James, but he's been faithful."

"How can you tell, exactly?"

"You just can. It's kind of like the relationship between a mother and her child. You can just tell."

The bell rang.

---

In a nearby diner, hidden in a booth in the corner, a man sneered. He wore a dark coat, a bowler hat sitting atop his long, unruly butterscotch hair. He pushed up his glasses angrily. "To think, it came here of all places. Well, it doesn't really matter. Just a little more of this and—"

A waitress approached him, placing a dish on the table. "Sir, here's your bagel."

The man stared up at her savagely for interrupting him, but he quickly smiled and nodded. As she turned away, he stared daggers at her backside and even fiercer daggers at her rear. He smirked and took a bite out of the bagel.

"Then again, maybe my luck's about to change," he said and left the diner, bagel in hand.

---

"Hey, Claudia." The girl looked up behind her horn-rimmed glasses, long blonde hair cascading down her neck. She waved meekly at Heather and Eileen as they sat down across from her. The cafeteria was busy around them with talk and laughter. Claudia Wolf pulled her candy-cane sweater tighter around herself and returned to her book.

"Am I the only one who shat some bricks when I saw Davidson's test?" Eileen asked, popping open her milk carton. "It was pretty hard. Half of that stuff we haven't even gone over yet."

"I thought it was kind of easy," Claudia said, and Heather laughed.

"Well, no offense, Claudia, but you're a brain."

Claudia blushed and looked away.

Heather poked at her imitation mashed potatoes with her spork. "Hey, so did either of you hear about that recent murder?"

Eileen squirmed, watching Heather slip the gunk into her mouth. "You mean the one with the numbers, right?" she asked. "I heard about it. Kind of creepy. They haven't caught the guy yet."

"It's been the third one," Claudia said, and the girls remained silent.

"Well, enough about that," Heather said. "I'm going to go piss. I'll be right back."

"Don't forget to apply moisturizer," Eileen said, and Heather stuck her tongue out at her as she hurried towards the restrooms.

Henry and James entered the cafeteria, just barely passing Heather. "Ah, shit. Mondays suck, but this just plain _sucks_," Henry growled, screwing up his hair in frustration at the crowd. "I'm hungry, man!"

James shrugged and was about to say something when a pale, pink-nailed hand slid onto his shoulder. "Hey, James." The two spun around and were greeted by several girls, the front most of which retracted her hand and giggled. She smiled seductively and brushed her platinum hair away, the tips of which were hi-lighted pink.

"Maria," said James stoically, and the girl giggled again, signaling for her posse to do the same. Meanwhile, Henry could do nothing but roll his eyes in disgust. "Wonderful," he said, "the whore patrol."

"What was that?" snapped the girl to Maria's right. She stepped away from the group and gave Henry a look to equal his own.

"You heard me, Velasquez," he said, "_the whore patrol_. You're all whores, and you're on patrol. Not too difficult to comprehend."

"Oh, Townshend—" Maria sheepishly swung an arm to bar the girl's path.

"No reason to get riled up, Cynthia. It's pretty obvious that Townshend here is simply experiencing his very first _period_! _How cute_!" The group exploded into furious chortling. Cynthia's mouth was a grim line, and she kept her eyes on Henry, who merely waited for the laughing to subside.

"At least I don't parade the information around as if it were a national emergency," he responded coolly, silencing the girls.

Maria seethed. "What are you talking about, you—"

"That's enough," James commanded, stepping in-between the two. "Just go, Maria, and take your gang with you." Maria fumed silently, but the sudden authority in the young man's voice was too powerful to resist, and so she backed away, her posse doing the same.

"This isn't over, Townshend," she warned before storming off and swinging her hips in dramatic fashion. The click of all their heels waned as they left the cafeteria, and Cynthia stole one last glance at the boys, especially Henry, before following.

"Oh, come _on_, James," Henry whined, "I had that in the bag. It's kind of hard to imagine that she and Mary are _twins_, though. And what's the same, James, she's after _you_."

James could only nervously scratch his head.

---

The restroom was thankfully empty, and Heather quickly climbed into the first stall, pulled down her jeans, and sat down. As her urine drummed against the toilet bowl, an orb of light flew from her jeans pocket and sneezed, sending tiny specks of light in many directions. The orb floated up towards Heather. "Hey!" it called in a high-pitched, ringing voice. "Hey!"

Heather didn't hear, and she stood up, wiped herself off, and flushed the toilet. "Hey, listen to me!" the orb yelled as the girl buttoned her jeans and reached out to unlock the stall door. Aggravated, the orb rushed into her eye.

Heather recoiled immediately, swiping at the air, and finally noticed the floating figure of light before her. She narrowed her eyes. "What—the fuck?" she sputtered, and the little figure growled in annoyance.

"It's about time!" she said. "I've been trying to get your attention forever!"

"Um, am I tripping balls or something?" Heather asked, scratching her head. "I've got to be imagining this."

"No, I'm real!" the little figure said. "My name is Selina! I'm an emissary of the Fairy Queen!"

"The what the fuck?" Heather asked, confused, and the restroom door opened. Two more girls walked in, laughing.

"Be quiet!" Selina said, flying around Heather's head. "We can't talk here!"

Outside the stalls, the girls continued babbling.

"So, like, me and Kelly were at the mall yesterday, and _you won't believe who we saw_!"

"Oh my gosh, _who_?"

"_Brandon_."

"No way…"

Heather rolled her eyes, irritated. "Okay," she whispered. "Just let me get out of here. You can do that, right?"

"Okay, Princess!"

"Princess?"

At last, the two girls left. Heather let out a sigh and composed herself before leaving the restroom and returning to the table. Eileen and Claudia exchanged glances.

"Took a while brushing out the sand?" Eileen asked.

"Took a while removing the brick up your ass?" Heather retorted.

They laughed, but Heather could feel the prickling at the back of her ear. She was about to stand, but Eileen tensed up.

"What's wrong?" Claudia asked, and Eileen quickly lowered her head.

"Here he comes!" she hissed at them.

Approaching the table was Henry and James, trays in hand. "Fuck, there are no tables left," Henry said. "Keep an eye out for Alex. Usually he has one."

At their table, Heather clicked her tongue. "Oh, my God, Eileen, _come on_."

Dazed, Eileen slowly raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Henry," she said as the two boys passed by.

Henry stopped, his brow furrowing, and turned to James. "Did you hear something?" he asked, and James shook his head.

"Nah."

They continued on and Eileen looked back at her friends, red and flushed.

"The douchebag just completely ignored you," Heather said. "I don't get what you see in him."

"He's just—he's just—" Eileen shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. He's just so dreamy. I guess it's that way he's got about him."

"Eileen, I truly feel sorry for you," Heather said. "As your best friend, it pains me to see you attracted to assholes. You will never be happy."

"At least I'm not some sort of asexual freak," Eileen said, and Heather scowled at her.

"Bitch, you better take that back!"

"Whatever, cunt!"

Claudia looked between the two girls and smiled.

---

Alex Shepherd looked up to see Henry and James sit down. He then glanced at his own watch. "Not bad, guys," he said. "You've got five minutes to eat that mystery meat."

"Thanks for saving the table," James said.

"No problem," Alex said. "So, what's going on? You two look a little out of it."

"The whore patrol," Henry grumbled, sipping his milk. "That cousin of yours and her squad are a plague on this goddamn school. I get pissed just thinking about them."

Alex chuckled. "At least you're not related to her. But, well, you've just got to live with it."

"Bullshit," Henry said, grinning. "It's a good thing Elle got away from them while she still could. Now look at her—best friends with the good sister and everything. Are they becoming nuns or what?"

"Henry," James said tersely, but Alex laughed.

"I don't think so, man," he said. "I'm just grateful everything's been cool between Elle and me. As for Mary, she seems to be doing okay. At the last barbeque only Maria came."

"Really?" James looked up. "Doesn't Mary always go to those?"

"Yeah, but I guess she must not have been feeling up to it."

"She has missed a few days," James said absently. "I mean—I haven't seen her around very much."

Henry smirked and clapped James on the shoulder. "Alex, you've got to do something. The guy's lovelorn here. Use the power of family and hook him up."

"I wish I could," Alex said, and grabbed his letterman jacket from the seat beside him. "Anyway, I've got to head out. Practice."

"Practice after lunch," Henry said snidely. "Got to love it. Hey, we're thinking about renting a movie after school. Think you can join us at James' house?"

"Sorry," Alex said. "I'm going to have to pick up Josh today after his soccer game. The folks are out of town."

"Maybe next time, then," James said, and Alex left.

Henry smirked. "I guess it's just you and me, Jamesy."

---

"See you tomorrow, Claudia," Eileen said as the final bell rang and their English class dismissed. In the midst of the crowd leading, Heather heard a familiar ringing in her ear.

"We must speak in private, Princess!" Selina said, and Heather nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. Just wait a little longer—once I get home."

"Are you ready, dick-licker?" Eileen asked.

"After you and the troll living in your bush, bush."

The two girls laughed and left, heading out of the school. As they crossed the school's lawn towards the street, a figure watched them from afar. The man from the diner hid behind a tree, a pocket watch in his hand. "So, little fairy, that's where you are." He smirked devilishly and followed after the girls.

---

"These movies suck," Henry remarked, perusing the shelves. The rental store was fairly empty, and only a few other customers occupied the aisles. "And all the good ones are taken. Ain't it a bitch."

"Hey, Henry, isn't that your neighbor?" James gestured at the two girls coming in through the entrance. Henry looked over at them and tapped his chin.

"Yeah—I think so. Irene or whatever her name is. Who gives a shit?"

Across the store, Eileen hid behind Heather. "Oh, fuck, bad idea to come here," she said quickly. Heather sighed.

"Eileen, damn it, just go wait outside, then. I'll be right out."

"Okay; good thinking." Eileen skipped out and Heather retreated towards the back of the storey.

"Alright, you can come out," she said, and Selina flew out, coughing and sneezing.

"Your pants are so dirty!" she cried.

"Whatever," said Heather. "Now explain yourself. What are you—why did you come to me?"

"Okay." The little figure flew up and down and around. "I am Selina, an emissary of the Fairy Queen. Every fairy is supposed to seek out the Fairy Princess in case of an emergency, and this is an emergency. The Fairy Queen and all of my brothers and sisters were captured. You see, we are the protectors—"

"Whoa, slow down," Heather said. "Fairies? They _exist_?"

"Yes! Now listen and don't interrupt me! We are the protectors of the Seal of Metatron—"

"I think that's enough chatting, don't you agree, little fairy?"

Heather and Selina turned to face the man standing at the other end of the aisle. He tipped his hat to them. "Hello, ma'am," he said, smirking. "My name is Vincent. I've come to collect the little fairy here and put an end to this awful day."

"He's one of them!" Selina cried. "One of the Order!"

"The Order?" Heather asked, confused, and the man laughed.

"Come now, I don't want to make the scene. If you come with me, little fairy, I won't have to hurt your friend here—or anyone else, for that matter."

"You won't have the seal!" Selina shouted, and Vincent shrugged.

"Defiant until the end, it seems. Fine, then—we'll see how spirited you are when this girl and her friends and all the people here are crushed like pancakes." The man reached into his coat and produced a small, purple vial. He twisted off the cap and flicked the liquid within to the floor, where it splattered and sizzled, throwing steam from the carpet.

"What's that?" Heather asked, and the fairy bounced about her head.

"We have to get out of here!" she screamed, but the floor was already boiling. The splattered liquid swirled and transfigured into a glowing red symbol, pulsating with heat and intensity. The building shook and trembled, the pentacle expanding.

"I warned you," Vincent said and quickly left.

On the other side of the store, Henry and James grabbed hold of the shelves for support. The other customers cried out in terror. "What the fuck's going on?" Henry demanded, and James pointed towards Heather's direction.

"Look!" he shouted, and Henry followed his finger. Rising from the depths of the darkness was a hulking mass. A long, gray tail whipped out and toppled over shelves, sending movie cases flying. Four legs slammed down, and a giant, elongated head snapped out. The great lizard roared, its humongous maw splitting apart, revealing rows upon rows of sharp, bony fangs. Heather backed away against the wall, frozen.

"Holy—holy shit," she sputtered, unable to move.

"What the fuck is that?" Henry cried, but another roar sent him and James tumbling to the floor. "Is this a goddamn nightmare?"

"Heather!" Eileen screamed, running inside. "Heather, what—"

Eileen let out a terrified yell at the sight of the lizard and fainted on the spot.

"Eileen!" Heather cried out, ready to run to her friend, but the lizard was already upon her, preparing to swallow her whole. Heather shut her eyes, bracing herself for the end—

"Princess!"

A bright, golden light shone between the girl and the lizard, driving the beast away. Heather opened her eyes to see a fragmented slab of stone floating before her, surrounded by an aura of light. The slab flashed, transforming into a golden, heart-shaped case. It fell into Heather's open hand.

"What's this?" she asked. "A pocket mirror?"

"Princess, use the seal!" Selina shouted. "Use the power!"

"The power—" Heather said, feeling the light course over her body. "I have to protect all these people!" The light exploded outward, blinding everyone present.

Henry managed to shield his eyes, his old camera in his hand. "I've got to get a picture of this," he said to himself. "Who—"

The bright light dissipated, leaving behind a pink haze. Heather, encased in shimmering light, twirled into the open, the light disappearing around her and revealing bright red gloves over her forearms and blue boots. Her shirt and jeans had vanished; now she wore a white leather one-piece uniform, a pink belt clasping it in place and a sparkling, pink heart emblazoned over her bosom. A pink choker formed around Heather's neck, and a pair of yellow headphones appeared over her ears. Protruding from the top of either headphone was a thin antenna.

"Is that—Mason?" Henry asked in surprise. In the middle of the ruined store, Heather appraised herself in wonder.

"What—what happened to me?" she asked. "What is this?"

"This is the true power of the Seal of Metatron!" Selina told her. "It's the power of the Fairy Princess to become Princess Heart!"

"Princess Heart?" Heather repeated absently before returning to the lizard. Its tail swished over Eileen's prone form, just about to crush her; Heather unconsciously held an arm out, and a glittering, pink barrier surrounded Eileen and deflected the monster's tail.

"I—I did that?" Heather murmured, mystified, but the lizard roared again angrily and swung its head her way. The impact knocked Heather clear across the store, crashing through shelves and through the opposite wall outside.

She stood up shakily, dusting herself off amidst the rubble, but found herself relatively unharmed. "Holy shit, I'm still alive!"

Selina flew up to her. "It's the power of Princess Heart to fight against the demons!" she exclaimed. "You can vanquish it!"

"Fight?" Heather turned back towards the lizard as it advanced towards her.

Inside, Henry snapped photograph after photograph. "This is incredible!" he said. "James, are you seeing this? James?" Beside him, James leaned against the wall, still in a daze.

"What's—what's going on?" he asked, shaking his head, and Henry took him by the shoulders.

"Fucking Heather Mason is fucking fighting some fucking monster! Holy fuck!"

"Heather Mason? What are you talking about?"

The lizard rushed Heather in the middle of the parking lot, aiming for another head butt, but the girl was faster, gracefully flipping over it. She landed behind it, quickly ducking underneath its flailing tail. "This is amazing!" she cried, laughing. "I've never felt better! Now come on, you piece of shit!" She wrapped her arms around the creature's tail and pulled, planting her feet against the asphalt for leverage. The lizard roared but could not break free; with a loud cry Heather spun around and sent it flying through the rental store. It sailed over Henry's head and landed, rubble and wreckage falling around it. A piece of debris knocked Henry's camera to the floor, shattering the lens and severely denting it.

"No, Jim!" he cried, scrambling to pick up the camera amidst the chaos.

The lizard climbed to its feet, wounded and bleeding. Selina buzzed in Heather's ear.

"Now finish it! Use the power of Princess Heart!"

"Finish it," Heather mumbled, and the pocket mirror detached from her belt and enveloped in light. In its place, Heather held a long rod with a large, red gem of a heart on the end. "Princess Heart's power," she said and brandished the rod, sending sparkles into the air.

"By the power of the heart and true love's light, I'm sending you _back to hell_!"

**!!****中心力****!!**

A swirling, pink aura surrounded the rod, the gem glowing divinely. Heather spun and swung the rod, blasting out a gigantic, blindingly pink heart, full of love. The lizard tried to escape, but it was to no avail—the heart exploded into it, leveling the monster and what was left of the store.

As the giant heart faded, a small little keychain plopped onto the rubble: a little lizard. "I did it!" Heather exclaimed, the costume disappearing in a flash of light and returning to the pocket mirror. She stuffed it into her pocket and hurried over to Eileen, who was slowly coming to.

"Eileen! Eileen, are you all right?" Heather asked, kneeling down beside her friend.

Groggily, Eileen sat up, rubbing her head. "Heather?" she said. "What happened? The store—it's—"

"It's okay," Heather said, relieved. "Everything's fine now. Come on, let's get you home."

As she helped her up and started off, police sirens became apparent in the distance. James and Henry sat among the debris, the former completely befuddled.

"What did I just see?" he said. "Was that—was that real?"

Henry, however, gave no response. He stood, cradling the remains of his camera. "Heather Mason," he muttered under his breath. "Princess Heart. _You're responsible for this_!"

---

"Father, I'm home." Claudia entered the living room, where her father, Leonard Wolf, sat before the television, a glass of scotch in his hand. He turned to her, a tall, intimidating man, his short blond hair gelled back. He granted his daughter a brief smile.

"Welcome home, Claudia. Dinner will be ready within the hour."

"Yes, sir." She left to her room, and a phone rang from Leonard's breast pocket. He fished it out and held it to his ear. "Yes?"

"Sir, I—I'm sorry to report that I was unable to retrieve the last seal fragment," Vincent said on the other end.

"And why is that?" Leonard inquired coolly, raising his glass to his lips.

"There—was an unexpected development. The girl—she used the seal's power. She defeated the demon I summoned."

Leonard chuckled. "Is that so? Well, then, Vincent, take heart in what I am about to tell you: it is imperative that we retrieve the seal. You will try again. You will not fail, regardless of whatever or whoever stands in your way. Are we clear?"

"—Yes, sir."

"Good." Leonard pursed his lips. "I am not the one you should be afraid of, my friend. Kaufmann and Dahlia will be expecting results. We are running out of time."

"I understand, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"But, sir—one more question, if you'll let me."

"And what is it?"

"What about—Walter Sullivan?"

Leonard chuckled again, twisting his glass in his hand. "Sullivan will play his part soon enough. You needn't worry. Everything is coming into place."

**END EPISODE 01**

**Suddenly Heather's life is changing before her eyes! As she tries to come to terms with her new-found powers, she must also contend with the mysterious cult, the Order, that is trying to steal it—and will do anything in their power to do so! Meanwhile, Henry Townshend begins his investigation into what exactly Princess Heart is, but what will his quest indirectly lead him to?**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 02: The Bubbling Conspiracy!"**

**See you there!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	2. The Bubbling Conspiracy!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 02: The Bubbling Conspiracy!**

"Hey, there, Henry!" Frank Sunderland stood in the doorway of the small house, smiling warmly in a sweater and shorts. Henry stood across from him on the porch, his backpack over his shoulder and his free hand in his pocket.

"Mr. Sunderland," he said over the rain. "Pretty bad weather we're having, right?"

"It reminds me of the old days," Frank said wistfully, stepping out of the way. "Well, come on in. You'll catch a cold out there."

"Thanks, sir." Henry entered the house, the smell of roast caressing his nose. He smiled halfheartedly. "Smells good."

"We're having pork," Frank said, closing the door and walking into the cozy, dim kitchen. He lowered the oven door. "Look at it sizzle. _That_ is what it's all about, Henry, my boy. The simple things in life are the best." He gestured towards a covered pan atop the stove. "Pork and scalloped potatoes. Sound good to you, Henry?"

"Sounds great."

"Good. You going to be eating with us?"

"More than likely," Henry said, "if you'll have me."

"Of course!" Frank laughed. "You're my second son! And you always clean your plate."

As they talked, a young girl with her blonde hair in a ponytail wandered into the kitchen, hands on hips. "Dad," she said, "where'd you leave the scissors? I need them for my project."

"They should be in the drawer where they usually are, Laura," Frank said.

"I already checked, and they weren't there," Laura told him. Henry approached the dining table nearby, craning his head for a better look at the heaps of construction paper and magazines covering it.

"What are you working on, squirt?" he asked, and she scowled at him.

"Mind your own beeswax, Henry," she said, rummaging through the drawers.

Henry chuckled. "I didn't know you were born twenty years ago, munchkin," he said.

"She's making a collage," James said, appearing from the hallway in a simple t-shirt and jeans. Laura stuck her tongue out at him, and he smiled weakly. "It's for class, of course."

"Hey, James," Henry said and looked to Frank. "I'll be looking forward to the food, Mr. Sunderland. When should it be ready?"

"Another hour and a half," Frank said.

Henry nodded and followed James down the hall to his bedroom. Inside, Henry looked around at the orderly room, clean and well kept, the empty aquarium glowing in the dark room. "Have I ever told you how fucking awesome your room is?" he asked, and James nodded, sitting down on the side of his bed.

"Yeah, you have," James said. "So, why are you here, Henry? You stopped coming without reason back when we were in middle school."

Henry remained silent for a moment, contemplative. "Have you told your dad about what happened yesterday?"

"Of course not," James answered. "I lied and told him we were at your place. I wasn't about to tell him what happened. He wouldn't believe it."

"The news fucking believes it," Henry said, bringing a newspaper out of his backpack and throwing it onto the bed. James took it up and examined the top headline: "Mysterious heroine saves lives!"

"The media doesn't know what the fuck happened at the store," Henry said, sitting down beside him, "but we know the truth—the people who were there know the truth. A goddamn monster—some sort of fucking lizard thing. And that girl—Princess Heart, or whatever—she beat it, like some sort of superhero. She blew it to bits with a giant heart."

"Henry," James said, "maybe—maybe we don't know exactly what we saw."

"Don't pull that shit on me, James," Henry said. "I know _exactly_ what I saw. We were there—that shit happened! A giant lizard came out of the floor and this Princess Heart character kicked its ass! It's pretty simple. What's not simple is who little Peach is—Heather Mason."

James let out a laugh, and Henry glared at him. "What? How is that funny?"

"Heather Mason?" James asked incredulously. "I just can't believe it. How do you know?"

"I fucking saw her!" Henry exclaimed. "I saw her change into Princess Heart! I took photos of it, but Jim's been trashed. I managed to scrape together some of the film, but it's delicate stuff. It'll take time to develop it."

"Henry, listen to yourself—_Heather Mason_ is this Princess Heart? How is that possible?"

"Obviously I don't know," replied Henry. "But I'm going to find out. I mean, fuck—I can't just walk away from this. We almost died. There is some _shit_ going down, James, and we are right on fucking top of it."

"And what are you going to do, Henry?" queried James. "If this is real, then it's dangerous. You should just steer clear of it. Don't get involved."

"How can you say that?" Henry said. "This thing is intense—important. I can't let it go. I'll go visit her and get my answers."

"Henry—Henry, listen to yourself." James watched his friend stand and pace around the room. "Don't go over there. The girl's going to accuse you of harassment."

"'Harassment' would be me going over there and coming on to her. I'm just asking some questions—some very serious questions."

James half-smiled. "When you put it like that, I still don't feel very reassured."

"They're not _that_ serious, James," Henry sighed. "Look, tell me why I'm the only one tripping dicks over this! We saw some fucking monster get blown up by some girl! Can you honestly tell me you aren't just the least bit curious about what's going on here?"

James shook his head. "I don't know, Henry. I am curious—I don't know what happened. I can't even wrap my head around it. But—something feels wrong about it. Maybe it's not something we should be poking our noses into."

"Fuck that pussy shit," Henry muttered. "I've got to find out what's going on. I'm going to go."

"Henry—"

"Tell your dad I was sorry I couldn't stay." And he left.

---

Heather lay on her bed, legs hanging over the side. The rain pattered against the window noisily, relentless. She sighed and raised the pocket mirror in the air, admiring its luxurious sheen. Selina flew up in the air, making rounds around it.

"Your room is such a mess, Princess!" she squealed. "How can you live here?"

"I'm artsy," Heather said quickly, looking at the fairy. "Don't touch anything! I don't want your, uh, fairy dust getting over stuff."

"I don't have fairy dust!" Selina responded. "That's some sort of stupid misconception you humans have."

Heather drew another breath, falling back. "Fairies, monsters—when did my life end up like this?"

"Yesterday."

Heather sat up, dropping the pocket mirror on the bed. "Tell me again. I'm—the Fairy Princess?"

"Yes," Selina said simply.

"But I'm not a fairy."

"You're the human worthy of the princess' power," she said. "You're Princess Heart."

"And I'm some sort of superhero? I fight demons?"

"The power of the fairies has always been a counter force to that of demons," Selina replied, twirling around Heather's head. "The Order uses demons for their own nefarious purposes."

"The Order," Heather repeated quietly. "That guy—the one from the video store—he's one of them? What do they want?"

Selina hummed nervously. "I—don't know," she said. "They captured the Fairy Queen and everyone else, and they've been trying to collect the pieces of the Seal of Metatron—but I don't know why."

"Seal of Metatron?" Heather asked. "What is that?"

"I don't really know, either. According to what the queen's told us, it's some sort of ancient relic. Very powerful." The fairy hovered down to the pocket mirror. "This is the last piece of the seal that I know of. I stole it."

"It's what let me turn into—Princess Heart, right?"

"Yes."

A mischievous smile spread over Heather's face. "So if I _am_ a superhero, shouldn't I have some sort of cool catchphrase? A badass pose?" She threw her hands up, gesticulating wildly. "_Henshin_ something? Hey, work with me here!" She frowned. "Well, then again, I guess they are just gang signs."

The fairy sighed. "I can't believe you're the one who has the power…"

"Well, you're a fairy," Heather said, waving a hand. "No one cares what you think." She swung her legs back up onto the bed when her cellular phone rang. She grabbed it from the bedside. On the screen displayed a text from Eileen.

**hey bitch. wanna cum over and hang? maybe go to the mall later**

Heather smirked and slid out the keypad to input her response.

**Sure, cum all over Henry Ts baby face**

She waited a minute for Eileen's text to come in with a beep.

**yea right, henry the cu_cum_ber lol so yes or no? =/**

**Keep your clit wet Ill be right there**

Heather hopped off her bed and slipped her tennis shoes on. "Where are you going?" Selina asked, flying about.

"Eileen's house, then maybe the mall," Heather said. "I'll be back later."

"You don't understand!" the fairy cried. "I have to go with you! If something happens, you have to be ready!"

Heather furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"The Order!" Selina shouted, bouncing in front of the girl's face. "You have to be ready in case they come after you! Take the mirror!"

Heather glanced at the pocket mirror sunk into the sheets and sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll take it. Hold your horses." She plucked up the mirror and put it in her pocket. "Besides, you shouldn't worry so much. I kicked that other monster's butt." She flashed the cute, little lizard keychain towards the fairy. "I'll be fine."

"Still, I should go with you!"

Heather sighed again and shrugged. "Okay, you can come, but you've got to be quiet the whole time. Alright? Go in my pocket."

The fairy wordlessly flew into Heather's jeans. She left the room and headed down the stairs into the kitchen. At the table, the glow of the laptop accentuating his features, was Harry. He looked up at his daughter.

"You going out?" he asked. Chip was curled up at his feet.

"Yeah. Eileen's house. I'll take an umbrella, don't worry." She leaned in next to Harry to peer at the screen. "What are you writing?"

"I don't know yet," he said, his tone soft and reflective. "I'm just letting my thoughts wander, to be honest with you."

"Writer's block," Heather said. "Sucks."

Harry let out a short laugh. "Sure does," he said, glancing at her. The chain glistening around her neck caught his attention.

"You're wearing your pendant," he said, smiling.

She looked at him. "Of course." She cupped the golden pendant in her hand and opened it, revealing two portraits within on either side. "You and Mom," she said silently. "Adam and Eve."

Harry said nothing, his eyes distant, his smile softening. He tapped her cheek with the back of his finger. "Well, you better get going. Don't want to keep Eileen waiting."

"Yeah. We might go to the mall for a little bit, too."

"Just be careful."

Heather nodded and left out, grimacing at the onslaught of rain. She raised the umbrella she had picked up from the kitchen counter but stopped; walking up the porch steps, interrupted, was Henry, drenched.

"Townshend?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He stared at her, blinking, running his hand through his wet mop of hair. "I came to see you, Mason," he said.

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "Um, see me about what? We don't even talk."

"I saw what happened yesterday," he said, stopping her short.

"What are you talking about?"

"I was there at the video store," he answered. "I saw the monster and I saw you fucking transform. What did you call it? Princess Heart?"

She faked a laugh. "What are you talking about? I have no idea what you're saying."

"It was you," Henry said, stepping closer towards her. "You fought that monster thing. You're Princess Heart. I want to know why—_how_."

Heather scowled at him, holding out a finger. "Look, dude, I don't know what you're going on about. You should get off whatever you're smoking. Now I have to go, so get out of my way."

She pushed past him, but he grabbed her arm. "I know the truth," he said. "I don't know what's going on here, but me and my friend almost died yesterday, so count on it—I'll find out, whether it's with your help or not."

She shook him off. "Whatever, man. Just get the fuck off my property and don't come back." She stormed off into the rain, shooting up the umbrella over her head. Henry watched her go, sighing, and jammed his hands into his pockets.

After about a block, Heather cursed under her breath.

---

Eileen was on her stomach on her bed, bare legs in the air, flipping channels on the television when Heather walked in. "Hey, 'ho."

"Hey, nigga."

Heather leapt onto the bed beside her friend, kicking off her shoes. The room was a den of magenta, fuchsia, and pink, the lamp next to the bed the only source of hazy light. Heather looked over Eileen's simple white tank top and short skirt. "Vag, and you want to go to the mall?"

"Fuck the mall," Eileen said, landing on a music video hit list. She threw the remote to the floor. "It's raining cats and dogs and shit."

Heather climbed over Eileen's backside and lay across on her, taking up a fashion magazine lying on the other side of the bed. "Maybe tomorrow," she said, skimming through an article. Suddenly Heather sniffed at the air. "Is that—ocean breeze I smell? You only use that shampoo when you want to—"

Heather jumped up, squirming. "Eileen!" she cried. "You fucking invite me over when you've fingered yourself?"

"Shut the fuck up," Eileen replied. "I did _not_ finger myself."

"You sure did. I know your fantasy." She threw herself back onto the bed, spreading out her arms and grinding into the sheets. "Oh, _Henry_!" she yelled out. "Come ravish my body as the waves lap over my shining, unsoiled vagina!" She shuddered, shaking. "Yes, that's it! I can feel you inside of me! Oh, _God_!"

"_Heather_!" Eileen screeched, climbing up beside her friend. "You did _not_ just fucking go there!"

"I just fucking did," Heather said, and Eileen fell down beside her.

"Seriously, though," she said after a pause, "what do you think he thinks of me?"

"I don't know," said Heather. "The guy's an asshole, Eileen." She thought of their encounter as she was leaving the house, but said nothing.

"He's sweet," Eileen said, her voice pleasant. "I remember him taking pictures of butterflies in the backyard when we were kids, and I know he would bake cookies and stuff with his mom. But his parents are always fighting, Heather. I feel so bad for him."

Heather groaned. "He's still an asshole."

"Didn't you used to collect butterflies?" asked Eileen.

"Yeah—used to. I think they're all in the garage, or something."

"Oh."

"You know, little miss herpes," Heather said, "prom's coming up. Maybe you should ask him out?"

Eileen giggled. "No—he wouldn't go with me."

"Well, fuck, Eileen, that's the worst attitude you can have."

"I don't know." Eileen turned over on her side, sighing.

Heather licked her lips, sliding her arms around Eileen's waist and pulling her closer. "Well, you know, _I_ can always keep you company."

"Slut," Eileen said, turning her head, "I wouldn't touch your filthy pussy with a ten-foot pole. Hell, make it twenty feet."

"Ugh, you're such a bitch," Heather laughed, slapping the other girl's bottom. "Eww. Jell-o ass."

"Hey, speaking of prom," Eileen said, twisting around to face Heather, "are we going to have it at the gym?"

"That's what I heard," Heather said.

"Sucks."

"Take it up with Principal Wolf."

"You're fucking crazy," Eileen said. "Big wolf on campus won't budge. I can't imagine how Claudia can live trapped in that militant nightmare. I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up going to prom and killing everybody with telekinesis. Fucking Carrie."

"That's not even funny," Heather said. "She's too nice to deserve that."

"Okay, I take it back."

"—But I can see where you're coming from."

"Fucking bitch!" Eileen threw a pillow Heather's way. "You're such a hypocrite!"

---

When Heather left Eileen's house, the sky had already darkened and the rain subsided. She started down the soaked street, stepping into puddles as she went. The streetlamps glowed hazily in the distance.

Selina appeared out of Heather's pocket with a dash of light, sniffling. "It's so damp!" she cried. "Terrible!" She noticed Heather's frown and danced over her nose. "What's wrong, Princess?"

"I can't—I can't lie to Eileen," she said after a moment. "She doesn't remember anything that happened, but—how can I face her? How can I explain what happened, you know?"

"She can't know!" Selina responded. "It's simply too dangerous! It'll make it even easier for the Order to find you!"

"It just doesn't feel right," Heather said. "It's not fair to her. Hell, I didn't even ask for this! Why is this happening?"

A low laugh further down the street caught her attention. She and the fairy turned to see Vincent leaning against a streetlamp, wrapped in his coat. He walked out onto the street, chuckling. "I'll tell you why, Heather. I'll tell you everything."

"You," Heather said, tensing. "You're that guy—what was your name—"

"Vincent," he said, bowing. "I feel I came off a little too strongly yesterday; I got impatient, and I apologize for that. It was a bad day."

"What do you want?" she demanded, and he laughed.

"I think that should be clear by now. I'm after the seal—the Seal of Metatron. My higher-ups have great plans for that old piece of junk. Personally, I've never seen the point of it all. So long as I have my amenities, I'm happy." He shrugged. "But I digress—the point is, I'm not entirely beyond civility. In fact, I'd rather we not have to tear at each other's throats."

"Don't listen to him!" Selina exclaimed. "He's trying to trick you!"

"This is not a trick," Vincent said. "I'm being completely sincere, Heather. I'm here to end this before it spirals out of your control."

"How's that?" she queried.

"This is not a game," he replied. "I don't know what fantasies you've concocted, but keep this in mind: should you interfere with our plans, we will not stop. Neither you nor your family or friends will be safe."

He nodded in the direction of Eileen's house, smiling. "You want to protect them, don't you?"

"Are you threatening me?" Heather said, brow raised. She laughed. "Listen, man, you already overstepped your bounds. You already nearly killed one of my friends." She shrugged herself. "So, sorry, but I can't help you. If you want this thingamajig, you'll have to take it from me."

Vincent shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Poor girl," he said, bringing out a glass vial. A dark, sanguine liquid swelled within. "Poor, poor girl. You'll come to realize." He uncorked the vial and swung his arm in the air, throwing the liquid all around Heather. From the burning darkness, red, glowing pentacles manifested, and from them rose grotesque, humanoid shapes. Hooting and hollering, they lurched forward, hopping around and beating their chests.

"Gum Heads," Vincent said, licking his teeth. "They're quite brutal when provoked."

Heather looked around at them, grinning. "Hey, bring it on!" Striking a pose, she brought out the pocket mirror and flicked it open, holding it high above her head. She froze, confused. "Um, what do I say?"

"Oh, just tear her apart," Vincent said, rolling his eyes. The Gum Heads advanced. Heather laughed.

"_Heart power_!"

Pink and golden streams of light enveloped her, holding the creatures at bay. The light dissipated with a dramatic flash, and Heather stood, still in her pose. She drew a peace sign over her eyes, proclaiming, "Princess Heart!"

The Gum Heads hovered, unsure, and Vincent let out a long, protracted sigh. "I said it once already—tear her apart!"

They cackled and chortled and leapt forward, lunging straight for Heather. With grace and a few swings of her hips, she danced between them, avoiding the attacks. Quickly she turned on her heel, throwing dust in the air, and kicked one of the monsters hard in the gut. A definitive crack sounded, and the Gum Head flew across the street, landing among some trashcans.

"Hundred points!" she yelled happily, rearing back a fist to punch another oncoming enemy. But her arm stuck in place, and she turned to see two of the monsters restraining her. A third Gum Head attacked her in a frenzy of hits, striking her repeatedly. When the assault was over, Heather looked up, unfazed.

"Not bad," she said, and the two Gum Heads restraining her had barely exchanged glances when she pulled her arms free, ripping theirs out in the process. They fell back in puddles of blood, and Heather struck out a fist in a powerful punch, catching the other Gum Head in the face, its skull crushing instantly.

The final few monsters bounded towards her in a last attack, and Heather rushed to meet them, throwing herself into the fray. Within seconds, the monsters lay dead and broken, Heather kicking them for good measure.

One last Gum Head cowered behind Vincent, and upon catching Heather's attention it ran off down the street. "Done already?" she cried, chasing after it, and with a brutal dropkick sent it crashing into a fence.

Vincent sighed, grimacing as she returned. "So, what do you think?" she taunted. "Not too shabby, huh?"

"It was impressive, yes," he told her, "but you're a bit too cocky for your own good. Your second day on the job, and you think you're unstoppable?" He chuckled and revealed a second vial. "Let's see how long that holds up."

"Don't get too excited!" Selina chirped in Heather's ear. "He's summoning another one!"

With another splash, the asphalt sizzled, the Gum Heads' corpses vanishing into the newly opened abyss. Heather backed away in apprehension as a larger, more massive shape rose up. "What—is _that_?" she blurted.

The monster staggered forward, gigantic, its humanoid form sagged down by mounds and mounds of fat. Its gray, blotched skin shook and trembled with each step.

"The Insane Cancer," Vincent said. "Not so hot now, are you?"

"Yeah, right!" Heather responded and dashed forward, punching the daunting beast. The monster hardly budged, Heather's fist sinking into its flesh.

"Oh, gross!" she cried, tugging it out. She spun around and delivered a kick to the Cancer's side, but her leg bounced back, the skin rippling and swaying. Vincent laughed.

"Your petty little punches and kicks won't make a difference," he said. "The Insane Cancer is a walking wall! Your physical attacks are useless!"

The Cancer swiped at her, knocking Heather back down the street. She skidded to a stop, and she sat up, rubbing her head. "Fuck, man, that hurt!" The Cancer approached, its tiny feet bobbing up and down.

"This doesn't look good," Heather muttered, climbing to her feet. "Where's that heart rod thing when you need it?"

"The demon's infernal power is too high!" Selina informed her. "It must be weakened!"

"Are you—_seriously_?" Heather's mouth went ajar. "That just sounds like a lame excuse to build tension!"

But the monster was already upon her, swinging its arms down for another attack. Heather raised her arms vainly in defense, but a sudden high-pitched whine surprised her—two thin beams of yellow light cut through the Cancer's left shoulder and disappeared into the night sky.

"What—what was that?" she asked stupidly.

"Princess Heart's self-defense technique!" Selina shouted.

The Cancer lurched back, its arm dropping and dissolving on the asphalt. Beyond them, Vincent let out a frustrated cry.

"So I can shoot lasers from my eyes," Heather said, bringing two fingers to her right temple, "cool." Her pupils glowed, light forming at the forefront of her face. "Let's do it again—uh, _Heather beam_!"

The twin lasers shot out and blew off the Cancer's head cleanly; it fell back with a resounding thud, and Heather sighed, hands on her hips. "Well, I guess that worked."

"Heather beam?" Selina asked.

"I had to come up with _something_, you know?"

Vincent fumed silently, his fists clenched. Heather swung her hips in his direction haughtily. "So, all out of monster juice—um, Vincent?"

"This isn't over," he seethed. "You may have won this round, girl, but you have made a powerful enemy today. We _shall_ have the seal!" He ran off into the night, disappearing into the shadows.

Heather groaned, kicking at what was left of the Insane Cancer as it disintegrated. "Well, that was eventful." A light went on across the street, and a window slid open.

"Damn kids!" a man yelled. "Some people like some peace and quiet!"

Heather giggled, scratching her head.

---

"Where have you been?" Henry's father Will Townshend asked, looking up from the newspaper at the kitchen table. He was stern-faced, his jaw tight.

"I was around," Henry replied curtly. "Where's Mom?"

"She's lying down," Will said, looking back to the paper. "She put your plate in the fridge."

Henry opened it and peered inside, sighing, and Will cleared his throat.

"I saw your camera," he said. "I guess it was too much to ask you keep that one in good shape, too, right?"

Henry sent a glare his father's way and shut the refrigerator door. "I'm not very hungry," he said, ignoring the previous comment. He headed for the corridor to leave to his room, but Will stopped him with another remark.

"It's probably just as well. Maybe you'll get your head out of the gutter and start focusing on the things that matter."

His son turned, prepared to respond, but bit his tongue and left the kitchen. Will uttered a chuckle, turning the page.

In his room, Henry dumped his backpack on the bed and threw his soaked jacket onto the back of his computer chair. He sat there and lounged, running a hand through his tousled, wet hair. On the walls were framed numerous photographs, some monochrome, some colored, and others in sepia. He looked from one to another, focusing primarily on one above his head. Fixed eternally in the air was a whole host of butterflies, flying between the trees.

He found himself smiling, his heart heavy, and screwed his eyes up before switching on the monitor of his computer. He opened up the internet and contemplated, eventually typing in "princess heart" with a short laugh. Unsurprisingly, the page loaded with only a paltry number of links, but one caught Henry's eye: "Fairies—Fact or Fiction?" by a Joseph Schreiber.

His interest piqued, Henry clicked the link.

**END EPISODE 02**

**Heather's transitioning well into her role as Princess Heart, but how long can she keep her secret under wraps? Her victories have caught the eye of Leonard Wolf, Claudia's father, and he's interested in testing the new heroine! Meanwhile, Henry delves into the mystery of Joseph Schreiber and tries to convince James of his cause, but James has problems of his own he has to resolve!**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 03: Stunning Metamorphosis of the Heart!"**

**Until then!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	3. Stunning Metamorphosis of the Heart!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 03: Stunning Metamorphosis of the Heart!**

"I can't believe I'm late!" Heather cried, running out of the house, her bag flailing at her side. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Selina emerged from behind Heather's ear, cross. "That's not my responsibility!" she retorted. "Isn't your father supposed to do that?"

"He wasn't feeling too well last night," Heather said, jogging to the end of the block and stopping at the intersection. "I don't want to put a burden on him, you know? He expects me to take care of that type of stuff."

The fairy pursed her lips, hiding behind Heather's ear again. "I suppose so. You humans are so strange."

"Like I've said before—you're a fairy." Heather tapped her foot impatiently on the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic signal to change. "I don't expect you to understand. Ugh, this is taking too long. I bet Eileen thinks I'm dead, or something."

She doubled back, glancing down the expanse of some undeveloped lots beyond the street. "Shortcut?" she asked herself, smirking.

"But what about those signs?" Selina questioned as Heather stealthily skipped her way off the street and onto the muddy grass.

"It's not trespassing if no one sees you," Heather said. She walked fast down the lot, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Besides, this is an emergency. Drastic times call for drastic measures."

Selina was mum for a while before saying, "About what you said before—"

"Yeah."

"You don't want to burden your father."

Heather nodded, glancing at Selina as she hovered before her eyes. "I try not to make things hard for him; that's all. He's taken care of me all these years—it hasn't been easy. I try to make it worth it."

"Maybe—" Selina stopped short, tensing.

"What's wrong?" Heather asked, suddenly feeling a tremor run through the ground beneath her. The dirt exploded in front of her, and a giant insect crawled out, akin to a worm, its pincers clinching and its many feet twitching. Heather let out a loud yelp and fell back, watching the monster barely miss her and burrow back into the ground.

"A demon!" cried Selina. "Watch out, Princess!"

"Is it the Order?" Heather said, standing and flipping out the pocket mirror. "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. _Heart power_!"

The land gave way under her and the worm shot out, throwing clouds of dust and dirt high into the air; Heather flew up with it, transformed, and landed some ways away.

"Well, this should be fun!" she commented, laughing. "I've never been _that_ big a fan of bugs!"

"Be careful!" exclaimed Selina. "It's not the like the other ones!"

"I'm on top of it!"

Heather jumped to the side, avoiding another lunge, and quickly turned towards the monster. "Heather beam!" she cried, firing, but the lasers disappeared into the dust as the worm burrowed again.

"Damn—missed!"

"You're not paying attention!" Selina snapped. "You've got—"

"Oh, hush," Heather said, smirking. "I've got this."

She jumped back, dodging yet another attack, and as the worm fell out into the open, she sprinted at it. "If that won't work, then I'll have to take care of it the old-fashioned way!" Leaping forward, Heather tangled her arms around the monster, bracing herself as it crashed and writhed, unable to submerge.

"Stay still, you overgrown caterpillar!" she yelled, planting her feet down and gaining some leverage. With a cry, she hefted the giant insect and sent it flying across the lot. It landed in a heap, hard, turning on its back, stunned.

Heather grinned, dusting off her palms. "Now, for the _coupe-de-grace_!" She removed the pocket mirror from her belt and the rod manifested in a flash of light. She raised it above her head, triumphant. "By the power of the heart and true love's—"

Heather stopped, surprised, watching the worm flip back up and tunnel away underground. "Hey, wait a minute!" she said. "You can't just do that!" She ran forward, waving the rod around frantically, but the worm was gone. The earth was still beneath her feet.

"It got away," Selina said bluntly, and Heather kicked at a pebble.

"Shit, man, and I was just getting fired up!"

---

"Hey, James! Hey! Man, listen to me when I'm talking to you!"

James turned, sighing, and faced his friend. "Good morning to you, too, Henry."

Henry grimaced. "No reason to get smart," he said, sorting out his disheveled hair. They joined the crowds of students walking the halls of the school, falling into place. Henry sniffled.

"I think I'm getting sick. I was standing around in the rain the other day."

"Yeah, when you went to go talk to Mason," James said. "See? You didn't find anything out. You should just let it be."

"James—come on," Henry chuckled. "I'm supposed to let this be? We almost fucking _died_, man—what don't you get about that? And it's obvious that Mason is hiding something. She's got to be. She's not going to just open up and tell me every goddamn thing."

"You're saying that now," James replied, shaking his head. "What do you expect? I'm curious about this, too, but you're going about it the wrong way."

"At least I'm going about it." Henry pulled his backpack around, unzipped it, and rummaged around inside. He brought out some sheets of paper, crumpled up, and shoved them James' way. "Read that shit. It's an article by this guy—Schreiber, or something. Joseph Schreiber, I think. He was on to some of this shit—researching some sort of weird occult stuff."

James reviewed the pages, narrowing his eyes. "What am I reading here? What is this—fairies? Henry, what does any of this have to do with, um—"

"Princess Heart."

"Princess Heart, right. What does any of this have to do with Princess Heart?"

"_That_ I don't know yet," Henry said. "But I do know who knows—fucking geek squad. Dombrowski and his goons will be able to tell me. They know what's up."

James stopped. "Eddie Dombrowski? How are you going to do that? He doesn't really talk to anyone outside of his circle, as far as I know."

"I'm aware," Henry said. "I have a plan—what's wrong?"

James nodded past him, swallowing hard, and Henry turned to see two girls approaching them. One was blonde, wearing a zippered jumper, her hair in a ponytail, gym bag over her shoulder. "Hey, guys," Elle Holloway greeted, raising a hand.

The other girl, her chestnut hair in a clip, cradled her books against her bosom, smiling shyly. James had trouble averting his gaze from her—Mary.

"Hey, Elle," Henry said and glanced towards her friend. "Mary. What's going on?"

"Not much," Elle said, yawning. "We just got here. Traffic, man."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," Mary remarked. "Elle kind of lost her temper a bit."

"So I suffer from a little road rage," said Elle, shrugging. "What am I going to do?"

"Anger counseling never hurt," Henry said, but he tapped his chin, pondering. "Actually, I take that back; fucking therapy's probably done more bad than good." He looked between the others, noticing James' nervous silence. "Hey, Elle—do you think I could talk to you for a second? There's something I need to ask."

"Sure." Henry pulled her aside, leaving James alone with Mary. He squirmed, uneasy, until she spoke.

"James? How've you been?"

"Huh?" he blurted, dazed. "Oh—oh—I've, uh, I've been okay." He managed a shaky smile. "You know, making it."

She smiled softly. "That's good. I haven't talked to you in a while, so—I was just wondering."

"Yeah," James said. "And, um, what about you? You look good."

She looked at him, her eyes gleaming. "Really?" She smiled again and pushed at her hair, a bang falling loose across her face. James followed it with his eyes, admiring the attractiveness.

"I think I look pretty ugly," she told him, laughing. "A little stressed out, is all."

"Why's that?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Well, just—"

"James! _Mary_!" Maria appeared, her arm snaking around Mary's shoulders. She smirked. "How is my dear sister doing? What's going on here?" Behind her, Cynthia Velasquez and some other girls joined the group.

"Hi, Maria," Mary said quietly. James tensed.

"We were just talking," he said.

"Oh, really?" Maria cocked an eyebrow. "About what?" She moved away from Mary and leaned against James, caressing his cheek. "I didn't know you two were talking."

"Well, we're not really," James said. "It's just conversation." He met Mary's eyes and she looked away, hurt.

"Well, _I'd_ like to join," Maria said, "if that's okay with you—"

"I don't recall letting Skelewhore harass friends," Henry said, returning. Maria faced him, Cynthia and her other cohorts standing between them.

"Keep your distance, Townshend," Cynthia said, brushing some dark bangs out of her face.

Henry chuckled, eyeing her. "I suggest you butt out of this, Velasquez," he said. "Don't want your push-up bra popping out from the stress."

"You talk a big game," she said, jamming a finger his way, "but I think that's all you are, Townshend. Just a bunch of talk."

"Like you and your fake friends are any different," he told her. "At least I have the balls to show the real me and not hide behind make-up and blowjobs. Am I right?"

Before Cynthia could respond, the bell rang, and Maria took her by the arm. "You're just another arrogant little boy tooting his horn," she said, smirking at Henry. "The only way to make up for your insecurity is to put everyone else down." She stepped up to him. "You think you're better than everyone else? We'll see about that—won't we?"

She turned away and walked off, followed by her posse. Cynthia reluctantly joined them, glaring at Henry all the while. He shrugged.

"Fucking plastics," he said. "Suck the life out of everything they touch."

"Uh—thanks, Henry," James said after a moment.

"No problem. After all, it's what I do."

"I'm—I'm sorry," Mary said. "I better go." She hurried past them down the hall.

"Wait—Mary," James choked, but Henry patted him on the back.

"Let her go for now, Romeo. We got what we needed—right, Elle?"

Elle shrugged. "Sure, if Alex agrees to it. But I think he will; he's never let you guys down before."

---

"What the hell, vag? Where were you this morning?" Eileen asked, flustered. Heather sat down at the lunch table, scratching her head.

"Sorry. I woke up late."

"Late? You made _me_ late!"

"I'm sure she didn't mean to," Claudia said, giggling. "But Mr. Davidson certainly chewed you out."

Heather frowned. "Let that old fart do what he wants. I was—sidetracked." She picked up her ham sandwich, grimacing at it, and saw Eileen's skeptical stare. "Come on, Eileen, cut me some slack." She reached over and took her friend's hand. "You know you want to forgive me, baby—_right_?"

"I'll think about it," Eileen said, pulling her hand away and sipping her milk pointedly. "But you could've called."

"Point taken." Heather sighed and propped her elbows on the table. "Well, whatever, you know? I made it." She looked to Claudia. "What's been going on with you, Claudia?"

The other girl shook her head. "Nothing," she said.

"We were talking about your dad the other day," Eileen piped up, "about whether or not he might be willing to let the prom get transferred to somewhere else—not the gym."

Claudia shook her head again, smiling. "I don't think he would even consider something like that, sorry. I never really talk to him about school, to be honest."

"Really?" Heather said. "That's ironic. He _is_ the principal."

"Yeah," said Claudia, "but it just never really comes up."

---

Vincent entered the office, closing the door behind him. It was hot inside, the air thick, and he tugged at the collar of his coat, groaning. Sitting behind a long, adorned desk at the other end of the room was Leonard Wolf, wearing a tan suit and red tie. Sitting across from him was a woman in a blue suit and skirt, her legs crossed, her blonde hair framing her face. Vincent stood silent.

"Of course, Margaret," Leonard said, his lip curled, "I assure you that everything is under control. Your faith is well-placed."

"I certainly hope so," the woman replied, inspecting her nails briefly. "We've staked a lot on this, Leonard. If you can't manage to take care of it, then someone will else have to do so instead—and Dahlia and I have discussed alternative solutions at length."

"I understand," Leonard said. "You don't need to worry. I am prepared to take certain—measures to ensure we do not experience more failure."

"Good." The woman stood, sighing. "Well, you'll have to excuse me, Leonard. I have some other business to attend to, but I'll be interested in hearing about your inevitable success."

"And I'll be glad to give it to you," Leonard said. She smiled, turned away, and left, granting Vincent a short nod while leaving. Vincent looked back to Leonard, confused.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Margaret Holloway," Leonard answered, clearing his throat and standing. "Besides Dahlia Gillespie and Michael Kauffman, she is the final coordinating member of our organization. I'm not surprised you've never seen her face. She handles—different matters."

"Really?" Vincent shrugged. "But I see she is just as invested in this Seal of Metatron as everyone else."

"Yes. Indeed." Leonard gestured out the window at the school grounds and the city of Ashfield beyond it. "Do you see this, Vincent? Do you see all of it? This is a world populated by sinners, plagued by filth and wrongdoing. With the Seal of Metatron, we will be able to rectify this mistake.

"I don't hold you accountable for your failures thus far, either. We all underestimated the true power of the seal and how much it would lend to this girl. However, we cannot afford any more losses. We must strike down this Princess Heart once and for all."

"I can do it," Vincent said. "I just need—I just need more resources. Our typical demons don't stand a chance against her. There must be something—something capable of crushing her!"

Leonard drew a breath and closed his eyes. "You are my most trusted follower," he said. "You have been faithful, and, while you may not be as passionate as us, I can see that you are determined. So I'll grant you one last chance. But remember this—should you fail, I cannot allow you to continue wasting both our time and our resources. Someone else will have to do the job."

"I won't fail," Vincent told him. "I can defeat her—I _will_ defeat her. I shall retrieve the seal."

"Good," Leonard said. "That's all. You may go."

---

"This is pretty ballsy," Alex said, "even for you, Henry."

"It's got to be done," Henry replied, following him alongside James down the hall. "These guys know their shit—they should be able to tell me what I need to know."

"_Should_ be able to," James interjected. "But I don't think we even know what it is we're looking for."

"Well, in any case, it's rare for someone to come to these guys." They stopped at a door at the end of the hall, the plaque reading "Science Room A." Alex raised a hand to knock but stopped.

"Just so we're clear," he said, looking at them, "I can't go in with you guys. It's their policy. You've got to deal with them on your own."

"For fuck's sake, Alex," Henry said calmly, "just goddamn knock. We'll handle it."

Alex nodded. "Okay—just making sure." He quickly rapped on the door, and the three waited.

A minute passed. Henry glanced at James and then Alex. The latter winked, holding up a hand. "Just wait," he mouthed.

Finally a slip of paper slid out from under the door crack, stopping at their feet. On it was written, in all capital, bold letters was the following message:

**WHERE ARE THEY?**

"The fuck is that?" Henry muttered, brow furrowed, and Alex knelt down, producing a pen. He wrote, in similar lettering, the following response:

**HERE. THEY ARE HERE.**

James and Henry watched in a sort of awe as he slid the paper back into the room. After a few long, breathless moments, the door opened slightly, allowing a thin, freckled face to appear and peer at them.

"It's—it's—it's Alex," the boy said, stammering. "He—he brought some guys with—with him."

"Alex Shepherd?" boomed a loud, rich voice from deeper inside. "Let them inside, Jasper."

Jasper Gein nodded and pulled the door all the way open, revealing a chemistry lab, the walls plastered with posters and the shelves stuffed with tools and apparatuses. Sitting at one of the tables was a girl with short black hair, timid, and at the end of the room was a heavy-set boy, a lab coat over his shirt and shorts, a baseball cap backwards atop his grimy head. His eyes alit with a malicious gleam as he laid eyes on Henry and James. His pimpled cheeks spread out in a wide, toothy grin.

"Well, if it isn't Townshend and Sunderland. Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes?"

"You're one to talk, Dombrowski," Henry replied, but Alex quickly stepped in front of him.

"You'll want to excuse him, Eddie," he said coolly. "Henry's just a little edgy these days."

"It's fine," Eddie said, "it's fine. If you brought 'em, then I don't think there's a problem with them being here. Right?"

"No problem," James said hurriedly, smiling.

"I've got some stuff to take care of," Alex said, turning to his two friends, "so I've got to head out. I'll see you guys later—and I'll see you, Eddie—Jasper, Angela."

The three students bid Alex a collective farewell, and he left. Eddie cleared his throat. "Do you mind closing the door?"

"Sure," James said, closing it. The tension between them suddenly increased tenfold; Angela, Jasper, and Eddie all stared at the two expectantly.

"Well?" Eddie asked. "What do you need of us, O heroes?"

"What do you mean by that?" James asked. "Heroes?"

"It's just some stupid bullsh—" Henry started, but Eddie cut him off.

"It's actually something more than just BS," he said, his voice calm but the venom in it apparent. "I can see it about you two. You're here with a purpose. Some sort of—drive. You're on some type of quest—it's the oldest cliché in the book. But the problem is, you need our help to finish it. Am I on the right track here?"

"Right enough," Henry said, walking forward. He threw the pages of the article onto the table before Eddie. "Listen, I'm not here to join your hip mystery club, Dombrowski. I just need information. I know you three are into occult stuff and shit—so tell me what you know about this."

Eddie looked up at him, leering. "No need to get so riled up, Townshend," he said, pulling the pages closer. "I let you in, didn't I?"

"Just look at the fucking paper."

Eddie nodded and started reading. Almost immediately he looked back up at Henry, chuckling. "Are you for real?" he questioned, incredulous. "_Joseph Schreiber_?"

At the sound of the name Jasper and Angela started. James glanced at them, confused.

"Yeah," Henry said, his heart suddenly pounding. "Do you know who he is? Are you familiar with his work?"

"_Do I know who he is_?" Eddie burst out laughing. "Of course! Joseph Schreiber is a legend in the world of mystery and the occult! He is the brand name of the stuff!" He raised the pages, head angled quizzically. "So why are _you_ interested in _him_?"

"That's not important," Henry told him. "All I need to know is how I can find more of his stuff. Maybe even meet him."

At this all three of Eddie and his peers started laughing. "You want to _meet_ Joseph Schreiber?" Eddie sputtered, flabbergasted. "You are out of your depth, Townshend. First of all, he's a mystery himself. You'd never be able to land a solid interview. And, second of all—it's impossible. No one knows where he is."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"He disappeared, my friend." Eddie shrugged, leaning back. "About a year ago, all mention of him just—stopped. Poof. He vanished. He literally dropped off the face of the earth."

"How is that possible? There should be some sort of contact info—_something_." Henry narrowed his eyes at the overweight boy. "Are you keeping something from me?"

Eddie's leer grew wider. "Look, Townshend—I granted you audience, but if you want a real lead, you'll have to do something for me first."

"What?" Henry said, stepping back. "What the hell? I'm supposed to do something for you?"

"I believe that's the way of the world, isn't it?" Eddie chuckled. "If you do this one thing for me, I'll tell you everything I know about Schreiber."

"Henry—" James said, but Eddie clicked his tongue at him.

"Hold on, sidekick. Let's see if your _compadre_ here will be willing once he hears my proposition."

Henry ground his teeth and reluctantly nodded. "Alright. What do you want me to do?"

Eddie licked his lips in delight. "You're neighbors with—Eileen Galvin, right?"

"Eileen? You mean—" Henry folded his arms, thinking. "Yeah—yeah, I am. What about her? What does she have to do with this?"

"It's simple, Townshend," Eddie said. "If you can hook me up with Eileen for the prom, I'll give you your info."

Henry let out a chuckle. "What? You want me to get you two together?" He looked back at James, laughing. "I have a hard time believing that she'd agree to that. I mean, fuck, man—look at you."

Eddie laughed slowly, caressing his chin. "Well, let me put it this way, Townshend—either you get me the date, or you don't get anything. I know exactly where Schreiber was living at the time he disappeared. All you have to do is get Eileen to accept going to the prom with me." He crossed his hands behind his head. "I'm quite charming, actually, once you get to know me."

"I bet," Henry spat, torn. He glanced back at James again, and the other boy shook his head, disapproving, but Henry returned to Eddie, sighing. "Assuming I do this," he said, "you'll tell me everything?"

"It's a promise," replied Eddie. "What do you have to lose, Townshend? Give me Eileen, and you'll get your answers. You'll be able to finish your quest—for the truth. Am I correct?"

---

"You're actually going to do it?" James asked as he and Henry walked the halls after school.

"What choice do I have?" Henry said, messing with his hair. "It's a dirty tactic—but he's all I've got to go on."

"Henry, come on. You're going to use this girl to get your answers?" James shook his head. "There's got to be another way."

"Give me another fucking option, James!" Henry exclaimed bitterly. "I'm stuck between Dombrowski's gut and a hard place on this one. If I can find Schreiber, we—_I_—can make some serious headway on this. If I have to play dirty in the meantime—well, it'll be worth it."

James turned, sighing. "I don't know. It's not right. I can't—I can't help you on this."

Henry shrugged. "Look—it's for the greater good. It's just a date. I mean, what's he going to do, rape her, or something? The guy's a fucking piece of work, that's for sure, but that's all he is."

James opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly a shadow draped over them and the rest of the hall. All of the students and faculty present turned their heads to the sky beyond the window, were a flying shape clipped out of view. Henry rushed to the window, looking up.

"What the fuck was that? Could it—could it be—"

A screech, akin to an insect's, beset them. Everyone covered their ears, trying in desperation to avoid the sound. Henry doubled back to James and grabbed his arm. "Come on!" he said. "Let's go!" He pulled him outside onto the lawn, and the two looked up to see a massive, grotesque moth-like creature flying rounds over the school, every flap of its wings sending gusts down at them.

"What _is_ that?" James inquired, stupefied.

"It's one of those things," Henry said, "one of those monsters, like the one from the video store!"

"What is it—what's it doing?" James pointed up at the monstrosity's wings; with each flap great globules of golden dust floated down, and soon the sky was full of the falling stuff.

"It's—it's like pollen," Henry said, and as he finished the sentence he breathed in the overpowering, excessive odor. His eyes instantly grew heavy, and he shook his head, dazed. "Don't breathe it!" he exclaimed to James, who was already swaying on his feet. All around them students were collapsing, instantly falling unconscious. Henry grabbed his friend and barreled inside, quickly throwing themselves into a storage closet. He covered his mouth with his shirt, trying hard to remain awake.

"James—you've got to stay awake! Fucking stay with me, man!"

James struggled, overcome by drowsiness, and Henry slammed his fist into his leg, jolting himself with pain. He stood shakily, legs wobbling, and shook James hard. "I've got to see what's happening!" he said and hurried out, catching sight of the monster in the sky. All around him, people lay in heaps, asleep.

"Come on," he gasped, fighting to keep conscious. "Where are you now, Mason?"

---

"Eileen? Claudia?" Heather watched as her friends collapsed; all around her, everyone immediately fell, overtaken by the drifting pollen in the air. Heather sniffed, smelling it, but she was unaffected.

"What's going on?" she blurted, and Selina flew out of her pocket.

"They've been put to sleep!" she said, and another screech caught Heather's attention. She looked up to see the moth hovering above her.

"That's why!" she exclaimed, clenching her fists. "But wait—is that—the one from before?"

"It feels the same," Selina said, flying behind her ear. "Be careful, Princess!"

Heather grinned. "I already told you before," she said. "I'm on top of it." She brought out the pocket mirror, shouting, "_Heart power_!"

She leapt up through the flash of light as Princess Heart, landing atop the roof of the school. The moth flew around to her, screeching, and Heather readied herself.

"You look even uglier now than you did before," she said. "I guess not everyone can turn into a butterfly, huh?"

The moth flapped its wing, sending a powerful gust of wind her way. Heather braced herself, standing her ground, the force nearly sending her off the roof. She broke out of it in time to see the creature spew out a stream of yellow acid at her. She jumped away, avoiding it, and saw the substance instantly corrode the area of the roof, eating away at the metal and brick.

"Nasty," Heather remarked, landing. The monster screeched yet again and swept down at her, but Heather quickly ducked, and it flew over harmlessly. "Missed me!" she exclaimed, turning and firing. "Heather beam!"

The lasers cut a burning hole through one of the moth's wings, and, agonized, it turned and spewed out another glob of acid in retaliation. Heather made to move but was too slow; the acid caught her arm, burning intensely.

"Shit!" she cried, hopping back. She looked down at her glove and saw it sizzling away. "Now I'm pissed!" she exclaimed, dodging another acid blast. "Take this!" she yelled, jumping up and punching the monster square in its head. It fell back in the air, and she pounded on it, delivering punch after punch. The monster quickly countered by spewing another acid blast, forcing Heather off.

"You're not getting away so easily!" she shouted, shooting her Heather beam and slicing off the moth's left wing. It flailed in the air, and Heather landed back on the roof, the heart rod materializing in her hand. "This time you're in for it," she said, raising the rod. The heart-shaped gem atop it glowed and began to spin around, shooting off light.

"By the power of the heart and true love's light, _I'm sending you back to hell_!"

**!!****中心力****!!**

She swung the rod and unleashed a giant heart of justice to totally envelop the moth, obliterating it. The sky alit with a pink explosion, and a small butterfly keychain fell down back to earth. Heather jumped down and caught it, smirking. "And that's a wrap."

Her costume vanished in a final flash of light, and she slipped the keychain into her pocket as everyone began to awaken and stir. Eileen and Claudia slowly got to their feet, while inside, James stumbled out of the closet, still half-asleep. Henry faced him, regaining his own composure, and he flashed him a brief thumbs-up.

"Princess Heart," he said, and James nodded, leaning against the wall beside his friend.

"I figured."

---

Watching the scene from his office, Leonard Wolf chuckled, twisting a drink in his hand. "Princess Heart," he said. "You really are quite something."

---

"Mary! Are you all right?" James ran up to the girl, who gradually came to on a bench nearby. She looked at him, still partially stunned, and smiled.

"James? What—what happened?"

"I—I don't know," he said. "But you're okay. Good."

"I was awake one second—and then—then—"

"Don't worry about it." He eased her back onto the bench, squeezing her hand very briefly. She glanced at him, surprised, but a small smile played on her lips, nonetheless. Watching them, Henry drew a sigh of relief—but he looked to the sky, unsure.

**END EPISODE 03**

**Since his wife's death, Harry Mason has kept to himself, never sharing his life with anyone else except his daughter. But Harry's seclusion may just break soon enough as he attempts to reconnect! Meanwhile, in order to continue his investigation into Princess Heart and the mysterious monsters she battles, Henry submits to Eddie Dombrowski's ultimatum—but will it be worth it in the end? And behind the scenes, plotting his next move, is Vincent, who is more resolved than ever to defeat Heather and retrieve the Seal of Metatron!**

**Next time on The **_**Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 04: Twisting Love in the Air!"**

**Don't miss it!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**

_Credit goes to author Gaia Faye for the characters Will and Victoria Townshend._


	4. Twisting Love in the Air!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 04: Twisting Love in the Air!**

"_Good_ morning, Ashfield! It's a dreary day today, but don't let that rain on your parade! We're listening in for any requests, so make sure to call in! For now, let's listen in to the Bison Brothers!"

Heavy rock blasted from the alarm clock beside the bed, and from underneath the pink comforter a head of brown hair rose up. Eileen sat up, throwing off the covers and banging her head to the music. She pumped her fists and strummed at invisible strings, grinding her teeth and seething. "_Fuck_!"

She jumped out of bed, wearing a simple tank top and short shorts. As she punched on the shower, the hot water blasting out like a machine gun, the music roared on, Eileen flailing about wildly. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She quickly rinsed and exploded out of the shower in nothing but a skimpy towel, soaking wet. "Fuck!" She thrust open her closet, craning inside for a better look. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She grabbed a blouse and wrinkled jean skirt and threw them on, drying herself in the process, and shook her hair, splashing water everywhere. She slipped her shoes on and skipped back into the restroom, inspecting her teeth and face, noticing a major pimple forming under her eye.

"Fuck!" she howled, pinching it. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She squeezed hard and busted the zit, the pus running down her cheek like blood. She screamed, slapping cleanser on, and smacked herself with water. She plunged her face into a towel and looked back in the mirror, a furious vixen staring back at her. "_Fuck_!"

She jumped in front of the mirror in her room, looking over her whole form, and recited the words printed out above the mirror, taped to the wall on a piece of paper.

"I am a woman—a vessel of power. I am strong, independent, self-sufficient, and wholly able to carve my own destiny. I scoff at the notion of coexisting with men. They are domineering, pompous pigs too engrossed with their own image to realize that the world is dying around us and must be saved. I reject the dominance of the penis and instead embrace the central power of the vagina and the unfathomable horror it inspires in the opposite sex. I am a woman—and I am _powerful_."

Eileen left the house a little while later, a jacket over her shoulders and a doughnut in her hand, appraising the windy street. "Fuck yeah," she murmured, biting out of the doughnut and licking the glaze off her lips. Just as her incredible energy was swelling to a crescendo, the door to the house next door opened, and Henry walked out.

Eileen froze. Everything melted inside her into mush at the sight of him. His tousled brown hair, broad shoulders, determined expression—she died on the spot.

He glanced at her briefly, and she choked out, her voice cracking, "Hey."

He nodded. "What's up?" He walked down to the street, saying nothing else, and Eileen followed after him, keeping pace.

She shook in his presence, unable to keep calm. They walked together to the intersection in silence, the cool morning air chilling them. Eileen munched busily on the doughnut, trying to occupy herself, basking in his presence.

As they waited at the streetlight, Henry cleared his throat.

"Um—Eileen."

She perked up. "Yeah?"

"This may sound strange—but I've been put in a predicament."

She bit into the doughnut again. "Really?" she asked in-between chewing. He glanced at her briefly, nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah." He sorted out his bangs, eyes distant. Suddenly his cheeks grew red and passionate, and he turned fully to her. "What if you had to make some sort of choice—to compromise your moral principles in order to find out some sort of truth? Would you do it? Would it be worth the sacrifice you'd have to live through? The regret?"

"Um." Eileen furrowed her brow in thought, holding out the doughnut like some sort of beacon. "I _think_—well, what would you have to do?"

"It doesn't matter," Henry replied. "The point is, you wouldn't do it under normal circumstances. It's like—it's like—being forced to choose between Mary Jane and the busload of children. You may _want_ to do one of those things, but in doing that you'd be sacrificing something—_more_. It's the difference between pride and—_good_." The word surprised out of him.

Eileen stared up at him, captivated, and then ambled after him as the light turned. As they traversed the crosswalk, she spoke up. "I guess it depends on how important it is—but two wrongs don't make a right, right?" She shrugged. "You either do what you feel is right and not find out the truth, or you make that compromise in order to find out."

She gesticulated, taking another bite of the doughnut. Henry watched her tongue wipe away the glaze, saliva about, and inwardly shuddered. Meanwhile Eileen went on. "Personally, I don't think it's worth doing something like that. Maybe it's better not finding all the answers."

"What if you're already caught up in it?" Henry asked. "You've come too far to stop."

"Take the third door," she said. "Save both Mary Jane and the busload of kids."

Henry was quiet, contemplative, and he glanced at Eileen to see her smiling gently at him, her eyes clear and bright, her hair frizzy at the ends and soft. His eyes trailed up and saw a piece of paper stuck in her hair. He picked it out.

"You had something in your hair," he said, and she died on the spot again. He shook his head. "But real life doesn't work like that. There's no third door."

"Well, maybe you just don't want to see it?" Eileen finished off the doughnut, licking her fingers. "You got to make it happen."

"I wish it were that easy." Henry drew a deep breath. "I really fucking do."

---

"Guess who I walked with today," Eileen said giddily, meeting Heather outside the Happy Burger. Heather looked at her, curious.

"Who? My dick?"

"Fuck you, whore. _Henry_."

Heather snorted. "Oh, him. He's an asshole, Eileen—you shouldn't even be wasting your time."

"He is _not_ an asshole," Eileen retorted. "He's nice, and caring, and sweet. You just don't realize it. Have you even talked with him?"

"I don't need to," Heather said. "I can just _tell_, you know? All those douchebags are the same."

Eileen blew out of her lips. "Like _you_ would know, lesbian. Why do you have to be such a pessimist?"

"I can't help it," Heather said, shrugging. "People tend to suck."

"Bleh." Eileen shook her head. "You're wrong about him, Heather. I know it."

---

When Henry arrived to school, an arm immediately slid around his neck and a chubby face nudged against him. "Townshend!" Eddie exclaimed, smiling maliciously. "Old buddy, old pal! How've you been?"

"Piss off, Dombrowski," Henry said quickly, sighing.

"Now how is that to greet an old friend?" Eddie laughed. "Oh, Townshend—I knew it was the right decision to put my faith in you. You've got spunk and a lot of temper issues. You are the perfect little tool."

"I haven't agreed to doing it," Henry told him. "Don't get your hopes up."

"Oh, I think I will. You see, Townshend, I'm the _only_ one who knows about Joseph Schreiber. I've already told Jasper and Angela not to let you in on anything." He smirked. "Besides, you should be honored I'm even gracing you with my presence. Most people would give up much more for the opportunity."

"_Goddamn_ is your ego bloated," Henry said, turning to him. "So you've got a couple of acne-ridden geeks riding your dick—how the fuck does that make you king of the hill?"

Eddie laughed, rubbing his nose. "Do you think I care about where I stand at this shit school? The only thing important to me is watching people like you bend over and drop your pants. You spend all your time talking behind our backs and belittling us—but when you need our help, you expect us to just _give_ it to you? I think _you're_ the one with the inflated ego, Townshend."

"I don't spread rumors, Dombrowski—just facts." Henry shrugged. "It's not my fault you're a fat son of a bitch. I'm not the one who spent hours in front of the TV eating potato chips and masturbating my way to social oblivion."

"Cute," Eddie said, "very cute. But you're grasping at straws, Townshend. In fact, since I think it's just pitiful how desperate you've become, I'll throw you a bone." He stepped into Henry's face, grinning, his voice quiet and thick. "Before Schreiber disappeared, he was investigating a serial murder case. The name of the murderer was Walter Sullivan."

Eddie reared back. "Chew on that for a while." He chuckled. "I can't wait to taste Eileen's sweet, sweet virgin pie." He laughed maniacally and walked off, leaving Henry to wretch in the middle of the hall.

"What a fucking piece of shit," he mumbled to himself as James approached him.

"So I see he hasn't wasted any time trying to cash in."

Henry shook his head. "You know, as much as I couldn't care less about Eileen, I still can't bring myself to subject her or anyone to even spending time with the guy."

"Can't you just look up this Schreiber person on the internet, or something?" James asked. "You don't have to put up with this."

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Henry replied. "I'm the last fucking person who'd want to deal with this bullshit. But there's not one fucking link that brings up anything useful. He was right—Schreiber's dropped off the face of the earth."

He glanced back in the direction Eddie had walked off. "But he did give me something to definitely chew on—a name. Walter Sullivan."

---

Harry Mason held two cartons of milk before him, judging them in the light of the supermarket. "Skim or one percent?" he asked himself, raising one and lowering the other. "Choices."

The intercom buzzed above him as he carefully fit the skim milk into his cart and steered down another aisle. "Clean-up in aisle four," it sounded. "Clean up in aisle four."

Harry sighed deeply and fished out a folded paper from his jacket pocket: a list. He scanned the items, smiling at the doodles Heather had made on the side. "Remember to buy more cinnamon rolls!!" read a scattered message at the bottom.

He turned down another aisle, heading for the produce section. The store was mostly empty today; a short little jingle played overhead. Harry passed by the bananas and packed a few together before turning to the tomatoes. He tied his bags in a daze, his hands remembering but his mind wandering. Harry looked up, suddenly surprised to see himself standing in his kitchen, sunlight streaming in through the open windows. He was younger, wearing his glasses, the bags under his eyes less defined.

Sitting at the kitchen table was his daughter, much younger herself, seven. Her legs swung under the table; her hand danced atop the surface, dragging crayons across her sketchpad. She looked up at her father, all smiles, her pleasant chestnut hair framing her young face. She hopped off the seat and held the sketchpad up for him to see.

"Look, Daddy! Look what I drew!"

"It's beautiful, sweetie," Harry said. She ran to him, hugging him tightly, her little arms wrapping around his waist. He patted her back, feeling the chain loose around her neck. He pulled his hand up and saw it was covered in blood, her pendant slung through his fingers. He stepped back, surprised, and found his home barren and gray, covered in snow. Where his daughter had been was a splash of red, vibrant against the white. He shook his head, distraught.

"No," he said, his knees buckling. "No, it can't be. Cheryl—"

"Harry."

He turned, eyes wide, and saw his wife standing in the doorway. She held out her hands to him, swathed in blood. "Harry—"

"Excuse me? Are you all right?"

Harry blinked, the tomatoes coming back into view. He glanced down and saw one in his hand, halfway into a plastic bag. He looked up and saw a woman standing beside him, her head to an angle, concerned. She was attractive, Hispanic, her dark brown hair tied back into a ponytail and her skin fairly unwrinkled. She wore a simple blouse and jeans.

Offering Harry a smile, she asked again, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah—yeah, I am. Thanks." He dropped the tomato in the bag and quickly tied it. "I just lost myself for a second there."

"I can understand that," she said, taking some tomatoes of her own. "It happens to me pretty often, too."

Harry smiled meagerly. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

As they laughed over that, she extended out a hand. "Michelle Valdez," she said, and he shook it.

"Harry Mason."

"Harry Mason?" She looked at him quizzically. "That name sounds familiar, Harry."

"You probably saw one of my novels in the bargain bin," he said, waving it off. "I'm sure it was dog-eared and collecting dust, just like it should."

Michelle's brow raised. "You're a writer?" she queried. "I've never met anyone famous."

"I wouldn't exactly call myself famous," he said. "Living off cheap romance knock-offs isn't something I'm proud of."

"It's something, at least." She turned and gathered some avocados. "I was pretty into writing when I was younger, but then I turned to music. It's nice to know it worked out for someone."

Harry watched her test the avocados, squeezing them and judging their firmness. He glanced over her filled cart. "You like to cook?"

"Yeah." She looked to him, tying a bag. "It lets me cool off after a bad day, you know? What about you?"

"I couldn't make anything if my life depended on it," he said, chuckling. "My daughter likes to say I should stick to the books."

"You have a daughter?" Michelle asked as the two found themselves heading away from the produce section.

"Yes," Harry said. "She's seventeen. A bit headstrong, but I don't know who she gets it from."

Michelle averted her gaze, keeping up a smile. "And her mother?" she asked, turning to him. "You aren't wearing your ring."

Surprised, Harry looked at her and then at his hand. "I—didn't think you'd notice," he commented. "She died when Heather was young—she must've been about three or four."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh—don't mind it. It was a long time ago, and we weren't on the best of terms, either." He laughed. "That's what you get marrying young."

"I was engaged before," Michelle said, shrugging. "He was a lawyer—good at what he did but not good for me." She laughed shortly. "I can't believe I'm telling you all this. We've barely met."

"I suppose I'm just a good listener," Harry said.

Michelle stopped, glancing at her watch. "I better get going and pay for all this." She turned to him, smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Harry."

"Yeah. You, too."

She started away, but turned back. "Hey, have you ever been to the Balkan?"

"The Balkan?" he repeated. "You mean the club?"

"Yeah. I sing there on the weekends for the late crowd. It's not a job, but I have fun doing it. Maybe—you could stop by sometime?"

Harry nodded. "I think I'll take you up on the offer."

"Good," she giggled, preparing to push her cart away. "Well—I'll see you, Harry."

"Bye."

Harry watched her go, a sigh escaping his lips.

---

"These requests of yours keep getting more and more intense," Alex said as he turned the car off. James sat in the passenger seat, and Henry sat in the back next to Alex's brother, Josh. The young boy brushed aside some of his long black bangs and poked his head over his brother's headrest.

"Hey, Alex, what are we doing here? Can I come?"

"Of course you can come," Alex said. "But you'll have to wait in the lobby. We can't have kids running around the station."

"But Alex—"

"No 'buts,'" Alex said, but his tone softened. "Just do me this favor and I'll pick you up whatever you want once we leave Henry and James off. That sound good?"

Josh contemplated this, his eyes wandering. "Well—okay."

James chuckled. "I wish Laura was that easygoing. Hey, Alex, thanks for this. I'm surprised you've humored Henry this far, anyway."

"Hey, I'm just a little interested in this, too," Alex said. "I don't exactly know what you're going on about, Henry, but it seems exciting."

"It's exciting as fuck," Henry said, prompting a giggle from Josh. "Come on; let's go."

The boys left the car and entered the police station. Inside the fans were spinning fast, the lobby cool and white. From behind a desk at the front, the female receptionist looked up, saw Alex, and smiled. "Hey," she said. "You're here to see Officer Wheeler?"

"Yeah," Alex said. "Tell him to just come out here. Thanks, Suzie."

"Man, you've got connections everywhere," Henry said. "Do you know the fucking president, too?"

Alex turned to him, chuckling. "It's really my dad with the connections here. He and Wheeler used to be partners."

"I wonder if he'll tell us anything," James said. "We're asking about something—"

"Tell you what?" asked a black man standing in the doorway leading deeper into the station, smirking sloppily. He ran a hand over his head, sighing, and patted Alex on the shoulder. "Haven't seen you in a while, Alex. How've you been?"

"Pretty good," the boy replied. "Thanks for giving us the time. You must be busy."

"Nah. Things have been quiet." Wheeler looked them over and gestured behind him. " Come on, let's go to my office. It'll be nice and quiet in there."

They followed him down the hall and into an adjacent room; Josh waited behind, disappointed, in the lobby. Some plaques and photographs adorned the walls, but the office was mostly unremarkable. Wheeler fell into his chair, sighing, and threw an arm over the edge. "Still, though, it's a tall order to call me out when I'm on duty. What do you need?"

"That question's for Henry here," Alex said, pushing him forward. "Pin it all on him."

"Thanks, man," Henry replied, giving Alex a frown. He turned to Wheeler. "I just wanted to ask about a case. Can you tell us anything?"

"That depends on what you're asking," Wheeler said. "If it's cold, I don't see a problem. Unless—are you turning yourself in for something?"

"What?"

Wheeler burst out laughing. "I'm just yanking your chain, kid. You need to lighten up a bit."

"That's a problem he can never seem to get over," James remarked, earning him a glare from Henry.

"Are you guys done yet?" Henry demanded, screwing up his eyes and sighing. "Okay, look—I want to know about Walter Sullivan."

Wheeler's grin vanished instantly, his expression hardening. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "Walter Sullivan? Where'd you hear that name?"

"Um—there was some journalist doing an investigation on him," Henry said, his voice thick. "Joseph Schreiber? Ring any bells?"

"Nope," Wheeler said, "never heard of him. But Sullivan's a hot topic. I didn't think I'd hear that name come from a bunch of kids."

"Why's that?" James asked.

"Well, alright—typically I would ask you to leave," Wheeler said, shrugging. "Simple as that. But I've known Adam Shepherd for a long time, and I know the type of boys he's raised. If you're Alex's friends, I think I can trust you, too."

"Stop beating around the bush," Henry said. "What's the big deal here?"

"You know those murders?" Wheeler asked, cocking an eyebrow. "The bodies have numbers carved into 'em?"

"Dad mentioned them," Alex said, "but that's all I know."

"About the same here," James said, and Wheeler nodded.

"Okay—now this is completely off the record. Not a word leaves this office, you hear me? Those murders—we believe they're the work of a copycat killer—a copycat of Sullivan."

"What the fuck?" Henry blurted.

"Exactly," Wheeler replied. "About ten years ago or so—I don't remember exactly—Sullivan went on a rampage. Each of his victims had a series of numbers carved on their bodies, and he moved so fast they barely caught him. He got pinned on the murders of two kids—I think their name was Locaine. Chopped 'em with an axe just outside their house. Imagine how their mom felt leaving them to play for one second and coming out to see them spread out over the street.

"Anyway, by the time the cops caught up he'd already killed two more people for a grand total of ten. Apparently the guy was batshit crazy—spewing stuff about the devil and whatnot, blabbering. He was just a psycho. So they lock him up, get ready for the report, but during the middle of the night Sullivan offs himself. He takes his soup spoon and sticks it into his neck. By the time they found him he'd been dead for hours."

Henry whistled, crossing his hands behind his head. "That's some pretty heavy shit. What'd they do with him?"

"Dumped his body in the local cemetery over in Silent Hill," Wheeler said. "Not much more they could do. Closed the case and that was it—until more of those bodies started showing up. The one from a few months ago was the latest all these years. There haven't been any leads on the copycat. It's a dead end."

"I wonder what Schreiber was investigating, then," James said. "Maybe he was looking for this copycat?"

"I don't know what to tell you," said Wheeler. "Sullivan's been dead for almost ten years now. You won't find anything about it we don't already know."

A scoff grabbed their attention, and they all turned to the doorway, where a woman leaned in. She was an officer, her uniform clean and pressed, and her blonde hair was made up in a bun in the back. "What are you telling them, Wheeler?" she asked. "Some more of your ghost stories? Conspiracy theories?"

"I'm just answering some questions, Bennett," Wheeler said. "I leave the fear-mongering for off the job."

"Yeah, I bet." She glanced at the boys. "You just watch where you snoop around, alright? Leave it to the professionals." She walked off.

"Sure, bitch," Henry muttered under his breath. He shook his head. "Whatever. If that's it, then I guess we're done here."

"She's right, though," Wheeler said. "Don't butt into business you shouldn't be butting into. If we meet again, I don't want it to be on opposite sides of the handcuffs—you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Henry. "We'll be careful. Thanks."

The three of them left, gathering Josh as they went, but outside Henry stopped, face-to-face with Cynthia.

"Townshend?" she asked, looking at him and his friends. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Velasquez," he replied. "I'd imagine you'd be out sucking dick and swapping spit with your gal pals."

She grimaced, shaking her head. "I'm here to see my uncle."

"What'd he do?"

"Nothing. He's a cop." She walked past them, sighing. "You know, you can be such an asshole," she said quietly before entering the building. Henry shrugged, scratching his head.

"Well, tact isn't your strong suit," Alex said, clapping him on the shoulder. "But I think you can work on it."

"Forget it," Henry told him. "Let's just go home."

---

"What do you _mean_ the answer was four?" Eileen sputtered, sitting across from Heather and Claudia outside the Happy Burger. She slammed her drink down in frustration. "Motherfucker! I am just getting dicked by this class!"

"You should study more," Claudia said, turning to the next page of her book. "The tests really aren't that hard when you make some time."

"But I have so many more important things to do!" exclaimed Eileen.

"Like treating your crabs?" Heather queried, biting out of her burger.

"Yes, exactly! You have no idea what a pain in the ass it is rubbing shampoo down there."

"Is that even how it works?" Claudia asked meekly.

"Fuck if I know," Eileen said. "I'm just saying. The next time we go to the mall, Claudia, you've got to force me to study, or something."

The girl giggled, pushing up her glasses. "I'll try," she said simply.

"You better," Eileen responded, taking out her cell phone to check the time. "Oh, shit. My mom wanted me to help her clean out the garage today. I better get going."

She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulders and finishing her drink. "I'll catch you guys later. Heather, call me, slut!"

"Yeah," Heather said, her and Claudia waving as their friend walked off. Claudia sighed and referenced her own watch.

"I'd better head for the bus, myself," she said. "Father will want me back soon."

"I'll walk with you," Heather told her, and the two girls gathered their belongings and headed down the street. The sun was low in the sky, and a breeze had picked up around them. Traffic was busy, and several police cruisers flew by. Heather watched them concernedly.

"I wonder what's up," she said, and Claudia shrugged but pointed.

"Do you see that? There are—are they birds?"

Heather followed her finger and saw them: black shapes circling wildly in the sky. More cruisers drove by, sirens wailing. Something buzzed in Heather's pocket.

"Something's wrong," she said. "Should we go check it out?"

"I—I don't know," Claudia said quickly. "It could be dangerous. Heather—"

"Sorry, Claudia!" the girl said, throwing glances down the street before hurrying across. "I've got to see what's up!"

"But—" Claudia stopped herself, watching Heather run off, and she reluctantly chased after her.

When Heather arrived at the scene, she hurriedly ducked behind an overturned car, eyes widening at the sight. The street was in disarray, winged creatures swooping down and causing havoc. Below them bystanders ran about in panic, officers taking potshots at the monsters only to be attack.

"Just like I thought," Heather murmured to herself. "Demons."

"What are you going to do?" Selina asked, flying out her pocket.

"Well, the only thing I can do," Heather said, smirking, as she brought out her pocket mirror. "_Heart power_!"

The officers, blinded by a sudden flash, did double takes as a young woman landed onto the street, dressed in an outrageous uniform, her hands on her hips.

"Never fear, citizens!" Heather exclaimed. "Princess Heart is here!"

The flying creatures, almost reptilian in nature, were upon her within seconds; yellow beams slashed through their stock, corpses dropping onto the street sizzling and fried. Heather leapt back, licking her lips, watching the remaining monsters fly around and come back for a second try.

"You guys are a joke!" she said, readying her Heather beam for another go. "Take this!" She shot again, but the creatures circled around the lasers and attacked, their talons ripping and tearing. Heather braced herself and batted them away, knocking them around easily. Screaming, she grabbed one by the wings and tore them off, blood shooting out.

"Damn gimps," she said, shaking her gloves clean. The street had cleared out, the police and citizens having escaped. As she stood and savored her victory, a man walked out from the alleyway across her, applauding.

"You never cease to impress," Vincent said, turning to her, "Princess Heart."

Heather took a battle stance, tensing. "Vincent," she said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I was sure that would draw you out," he said, gesturing out at the dissolving beasts. "The perfect warm-up, wouldn't you agree? I can see your blood's boiling now—the seal's power is resonating within you!"

He laughed. "You enjoy it, don't you? You enjoy snuffing out their lives. What significance are these animals to you, as it is?"

"What are you talking about?" Heather demanded. "_You're_ the one sending them after _me_! What do you expect me to do but fight back?"

"But that's exactly my point," he replied. "You enjoy all the fighting—you find it exhilarating. And now matter how easy it would be to simply relinquish the Seal of Metatron, you insist on keeping it. You insist on prolonging this bloodshed."

"Well, yeah," she said. "I can't just give it to you. Who knows what type of crazy shit you guys have planned."

"I suppose so," Vincent said, shrugging. "Well, then, allow me to make it easier for you!" He removed a vial from his coat. "This time you will not win, Heather! I will not be humiliated a third time!"

He poured the contents out onto the street, and underneath their feet, a large, glowing pentacle expanded. Heather jumped back, taken aback by the sheer size of it, as blackness filled the circle and a form began to emerge.

"This one's big," she found herself saying, and Selina nodded fervently.

"It's more powerful than the ones you've faced so far!" she cried, and beyond them Vincent laughed.

"Witness the Caliban!" he said as the creature rose up fully, a disgusting, four-legged monstrosity, its body bent over backwards so that its hind legs were in front and front legs in back. Its head stuck out between them, a bloated mass of bobbing flesh. Heather backed away instinctively, worried.

"Holy shit," she said, barely able to react as the monster swung down one of its massive legs. Grinding her teeth, she caught the limb, the impact causing a crater to form in the center of the street. Heather's legs wobbled beneath her, threatening to give, and with a mighty heave, she threw off the appendage. The Caliban fell back and then suddenly charged, hurling Heather through a nearby store.

The store's entrance crashed down around her, trapping her in rubble. Heather popped her out of the wreckage a moment later, covered in dust, coughing. "Wow," she said, dazed, "that kind of hurt."

"Stop messing around!" Selina barked at her. "You have to pay attention!"

"I _am_ paying attention!" Heather snapped back. "But just how the hell am I supposed to fight this thing?"

"Just give up," Vincent said. "The Caliban's strength far surpasses that of most demons. You've no chance of winning!"

"You're just full of hot air," Heather said, freeing herself and facing the beast as it prepared for another attack. "Come on, you SOB—let's play!"

The Caliban roared and swung down again, but Heather quickly evaded the hit with a back flip. As she landed, an overhead strike whizzed over her head as she ducked. She looked up to the monster, her eyes glowing a bright yellow. "Heather beam!"

The lasers struck the beast dead center, driving it back. Its limbs flailed out at her in a frenzy, and Heather danced around each attack before launching herself straight at the monster. A limb flew out unexpectedly, catching her in the stomach, but she managed to latch on as it swung back, dragging her into the asphalt. She rolled away behind it, coughing, battered.

"Shit, man," she gasped, standing. "Nothing's working against this thing!"

"You're tenacious, I'll give you that," Vincent said, "but you've met your match!"

"Shut up!" Heather cried. "It's not over until the fat lady sings, and I don't see any around as it is!"

The Caliban turned to her, imposing, but Heather stood her ground. "Alright, then, time to kick it up a notch!" With another cry, she jumped up, flipping past a strike, and vaulted off the side of a building. As the monster's limbs crashed into windows and concrete, Heather was already atop it, twisting her arms around the beast's head and pulling back, hard. The Caliban struggled, writhing, and Heather held on tight, rocking back and forth.

"You are—_really pissing me off_!" she yelled, suddenly throwing all of her weight around. The Caliban followed, spinning onto its back and slamming into the street, cars and streetlights flying about. Heather wiggled out and skipped back, panting, the heart rod materializing in her hand.

"Hope you had a fun time," she said, "but your vacation's _over_! By the power of the heart and true love's light, _I'm sending you back to hell_!"

With a graceful spin, Heather unleashed a gigantic, pink heart at the Caliban. The heart collided with the monster and combusted in a swirling explosion of pink and smoke. From out of the fallout flew a keychain: a cute little dog figurine. Heather caught it and stuck out her hand in a peace sign.

Vincent stood at the other end of the street, fists clenched, his eyes bulging. "How is it possible?" he demanded. "Why is it that none of these demons can defeat you? How can you be so powerful?"

"I don't have a clue," Heather said, smiling, shouldering the rod. "Shouldn't you know? You're the ones who're after this stupid seal in the first place. I'm just making it hard."

"It makes no sense!" he hissed. "You only possess a fragment of the seal! You should not—you should not possess this level of power! I should not _lose_ to you!"

"Sounds like you're just a sore loser," Heather said, shrugging. "This is just the way things are, man. Got to face reality sometime."

"No," Vincent said bitterly, "no, this is not how things should be at all! This isn't over—it won't be until I have that seal!"

"Yeah, yeah," Heather said, waving him off.

Vincent turned and ran off, and Selina flew before Heather, buzzing. "Don't let him get away!" she exclaimed. "Stop him!"

"What's the point?" Heater asked. "Just let him go. No matter how many times he comes, I'll be ready." She looked about, examining the carnage surrounding her with a nervous giggle. "Well—hopefully without such a mess."

---

When Henry came up the block to his house, he saw Eileen sitting on the stoop leading up to her porch. It was quiet around them, the only sound the ambience of the trees rustling in the evening wind. The sky was painted soft, rosy pink, and the sun hid behinds strips of melting clouds. A few lost butterflies danced in the air.

Henry and Eileen watched them, him from the sidewalk and her from the porch. Henry bowed his head, sighing, and mopped his face with a hand. Eileen turned to him.

"Hi," she said, smiling, and she looked up at her briefly before slowly climbing up the steps towards her. He placed his backpack down and sat beside her. She sat there, dying again, and watched him tousle his hair.

"Um—Eileen." He looked out at the trees and the city beyond. "There's something going down—something big—something bad."

She listened silently as he continued.

"You know Eddie Dombrowski, right?"

She giggled. "Don't you mean _Dumb_rowski?"

He smiled at her comment. "Yeah. Him."

"What about him?"

"He asked me to do something," Henry said. "Normally I wouldn't do it. It's not how I do things, stooping down to other people's levels. But this time there's too much on the line. I have to know the truth."

She scratched her head. "Does this have to do with—what you were talking about in the morning?"

"I decided that I would do what he wanted," Henry said, ignoring her. "He's the only one that I know right now who can give me some answers. He can point me in the right direction. As much as I hate his guts, I've got to do it."

Eileen looked out to the trees, where the butterflies were flying away. "What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me to hook you two up," Henry said softly. "He wants you to go to the prom with him. I'm supposed to make that happen."

Eileen stared at him, the idea slowly registering. "You—you were going to do it?"

"I had to," he said, keeping his gaze trained on the trees. "I have to know. I have to find out what's going on."

Eileen said nothing, her eyes watering. She sat there beside him, hiding her face and the tears rolling down her cheeks. Henry drew a breath. "That's why I'm telling you now. There's no third door, Eileen—no other way."

After a moment, sniffling, she looked up, wiping away her tears. Her eyes were hard. "And this thing you have to find out," she asked, "what is it? What's so important that you'd do something like that—that you'd coerce me into going out with him?"

"I—I don't know," Henry said. "Something's telling me I have to do this. You have to understand. It's just too important."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. You were always pretty smart. I always wanted to ask you for help on my homework—but I never did." She stood up and walked to her door. "Bye, Henry."

"Bye."

As she went inside and closed the door behind her, Henry saw the last of the butterflies disappear into the dimming sky.

---

"Vincent."

Vincent waited in the darkness, his breathing hard. "Please—please, Father," he said. "I can finish it. All I need—all I need is one more chance. Please, just give me one last chance. That's all I need—that's all!"

"Vincent, I told you—you would only have one more chance, and you have failed." Leonard appeared from the shadows, smiling. "I told you that upon your failure, I would have to find someone else who could finish the job. And I have."

"No!" Vincent cried. "Please, please let me have another chance! I can get the seal back! Please, Father! _Please_!"

"Why, Vincent," Leonard said, "if I gave you 'one more chance,' I'd have to give you an indefinite number of chances—and we just don't have the time for that. You had an opportunity, and you failed." He motioned with a hand, revealing a woman standing off to the side. "Therefore, I've now assigned Lisa to retrieving the seal."

The woman walked up, red hair in curls, wearing a simple jacket and jeans. She smiled. "I'll make sure not to repeat your mistakes," she said.

"I—I—" Vincent shook his head, the darkness swallowing him again. "No! I can do it! I can defeat her! I _will_ defeat her! Heather! _Princess Heart_!"

**END EPISODE 04**

**Following the aftermath of Henry's plight, Eileen falls into a heavy depression—but as Heather tries to cheer her friend up, she must also contend with a vengeful Vincent and a new threat in the form of Lisa Garland! Meanwhile, Henry's quest for truth reaches a climax, and he discovers an unsettling secret that will put lives on the line!**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 05: The Truth Locked Away!"**

**Watch out!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	5. The Truth Locked Away!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 05: The Truth Locked Away!**

"You seem a little—agitated," Lisa Garland said, smirking slyly. She walked along the rows of vials, passing her fingers over them. The spotlights above them were hot and striking; the room baked.

Vincent stood in the corner, fists clenched, head low. Beads of sweat lined his brow, and he remained silent.

"I guess I can't blame you," Lisa went on, pulling out a vial and holding it up to the light. "You were utterly _trounced_ by little miss Princess Heart. I'd be just a bit embarrassed myself."

"You know nothing," Vincent hissed at her. "You'll fare no better than I did. She will defeat you just as she defeated me."

"I wonder," Lisa said. "You can't simply fight fire with fire, Vincent, dear. Sometimes you may need to use some underhanded tactics to win." She stashed away several vials into her jacket. "Well, I'll be off, then. I hope you enjoy yourself."

Vincent watched her leave the room, and, slowly, he approached one of the lanes. He hovered his hand over the vials shakily, unsure, and then finally plucked one out. The dark liquid swirled within as he rolled it across his palm.

"Enjoy myself?" he asked himself, tightening a fist around the vial. "I—I think I will."

---

"Where _is_ she?" Heather wondered aloud, sitting outside the Happy Burger. The morning sky was bright and free of clouds. Around her, teenagers talked and laughed. "Why were you _late_?" she murmured, imitating Eileen. "Bitch has the gall to whine to me and doesn't even come, either."

She growled, sipped her milkshake, and glanced at her watch. "What's wrong, Princess?" Selina inquired, poking her head out of Heather's pocket.

"It's Eileen," the girl said. "She's usually already here—way before I am. But today she's super late." She shrugged. "It's just kind of strange."

"She could be sick," the fairy replied, flying up to her face. "Have you tried contacting her?"

"No," Heather said. "I was too beat last night to do anything. And now I'm all the news—'mysterious heroine saves the day again,' you know." She pulled out her phone and flipped the keypad out. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to see where she's at."

**Hey cuntzilla. Where are you**

She waited several minutes, finishing her milkshake, and furrowed her brow at the lack of a response. "What the hell?" she muttered. "Usually Eileen's got her phone next to her dildo."

"What's that?" Selina asked, and Heather looked up at her.

"What's what?"

"A—dildo?"

"Um, uh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." Heather tittered nervously and stood up, glancing at her watch. "I think there's enough time for me to swing by her house."

She bounded off to Eileen's neighborhood, quickly finding her house on the side of the street. To its right was the smaller home of the Townshend family, barren and white compared to the more lively colors of the Galvin household. Heather stepped up the porch and rang the doorbell.

"Eileen?" she called, peeking in through the windows. Inside the house was dark, but there was faint movement in the shadows. Slowly the door opened and Eileen's blank, droopy face revealed itself.

"Hey, slut," Heather said. "What are you doing? We got to get to school."

"I'm not going to school," Eileen replied groggily, rubbing her eyes. Heather craned her head and saw the girl was still wearing her pajamas: a pair of leggings and oversized t-shirt, a sweater over all of it. Her hair was frizzed and unkempt, her eyes red and puffy.

"Damn, baby," Heather said, walking in and placing a hand on Eileen's shoulder. "What's going on? Eileen?"

"It's—it's nothing," Eileen said, shaking her head. "Don't worry about me."

She sauntered off down the hall towards her bedroom, and Heather followed after her. "Eileen, what's going on? What happened?"

Once inside her room, Eileen plopped down onto her bed, sniffling. "Forget it, Heather. I'm not going to school. I'm not doing anything. I'm just going to stay here."

"Goddamn it, Eileen!" Heather exclaimed. "Tell me right now! I'm entitled to know, considering I'm your best friend! We're BFF's, remember?"

Eileen shrugged, moping. "It's—it's, um—it's about Henry."

Heather stopped, her eyes widening. "Oh, Eileen," she murmured. "What did he do? I'll fucking kill that bastard—"

"No, please!" Eileen said, looking up at Heather pleadingly. "No—no, don't—don't worry about it." She sniffled again, looking off out the window. "He doesn't like me. He doesn't even really care. He was—he was going to hook me up with Eddie Dombrowski for prom, and—"

"Whoa, slow down," Heather said. "Eddie Dombrowski? What does he have to do with this?"

"I don't know," Eileen replied. "He asked Henry to get us together, and—and he was going to. He told me yesterday." She sobbed. "It's just—I always thought it could happen, you know? That maybe one day we'd just start talking, and then we'd keep talking, and eventually maybe we'd hit it off—you know?" She started crying, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "But he probably couldn't care less."

She burst into a fit of tears, and Heather sat down beside her, putting an arm around her. "Eileen," she sighed, resting her head atop hers, letting her cry into the crook of her neck. "There are a ton of guys out there—a lot of them a lot better than that Townshend asshole. You deserve better, anyway. This is a good thing."

"It's—too late," Eileen said, pulling away. "I already—called Eddie. I told him I would go to the prom with him."

"You _what_?" Heather sputtered, struck. "Eileen, why'd you do that? You don't need to go along with this! Fuck them, man!"

"You don't understand, Heather," Eileen told her quietly. "I have to help Henry. I just have to."

"You don't have to do anything!" Heather cried. "That guy has no right toying with your feelings! You're a human being, Eileen—you don't deserve to be messed around with! I mean, why help him? He obviously wasn't going to help you."

A small, skewed smile touched Eileen's lips. "I—I love him, Heather," she said slowly.  
"I'm in love with Henry Townshend."

"Are you _out_ of your _mind_?" Heather exploded. "Eileen, you don't even know what love is! You think a few years of ogling this douche-bag means anything?" She stood up angrily, gritting her teeth. "I'll teach him a lesson. No one fucks around with my number one dyke and gets away with it."

"Heather, no!" Eileen gasped. "Just let it go! Leave him alone!"

"No way!" she responded. "He needs to learn that there are consequences for his actions. And, besides, you can't defend him forever! Whether you love him or not, he still crossed the line."

"Heather—"

"No!" the girl snapped, reaching the door. "I'm going to shove my fist down his throat!"

---

Henry stared into the depths of his soup, hands crossed under his chin, his eyes distant. James watched him from across the table, chewing on a piece of chicken, and sighed. "Henry, listen," he said over the tumult of the cafeteria. "You did what you did. That's it."

"I wish it was that easy," Henry said, looking up at him. "I can't fucking make peace with it, man. The way she looked at me—something happened, James. I don't know what, but something fucking happened there. Something broke."

James sat back, sighing again. "You said it yourself—you didn't have a choice."

"I thought you were the one who didn't want me to do it in the first place."

"I didn't, but, well, look at you. You're usually not the brooding place."

Henry smirked halfheartedly, nudging at his bowl with a hand. "I'm just not very hungry. This shit is pretty disgusting, anyway." A familiar, arrogant laugh caught his attention, and his blood ran cold. "Oh, fuck—well, you may as well kiss my appetite goodbye now."

Eddie Dombrowski approached the table, leering. "_Townshend_!" he greeted, slamming a hand onto James' shoulder. "And Sunderland! How glad I am to see you two!"

"What do you want?" Henry asked tiredly.

"What do I want?" Eddie asked back, brow raised. "I'm obviously here to hold up my end of the bargain!" he exclaimed. "Guess he called me last night? Sweet, luscious Eileen—I don't know what you did, but she was putty in my hands."

He sneered. "I'm actually impressed, Townshend. You're more reliable than you look."

"Well, you got what you wanted," Henry said, glaring at him. "Now are you going to tell me what I want to know, or not? I don't have the time to be fucking around with you."

"Of course, of course!" Eddie replied. "I'm a man of my word. You scratched my back, and now I scratch yours." Eddie leaned in closer, so that only the two boys could hear. "Like I told you before, Schreiber was investigating the Walter Sullivan case. That was the last anyone ever heard of him, but"—he chuckled, seeing their expressions—"apparently Schreiber was actually living here, in this very city."

"He was in Ashfield?" Henry queried. "Where? Where was he?"

"I'm getting to that," Eddie said. "Hold your horses, cowboy. Anyway—apparently he was here. He was staying at a hotel, South Ashfield Heights. You know it?"

"I do," James said. "My dad used to be the superintendent there, before he got married."

"Should be easy finding it, then," Eddie said, stepping back. "That's really all I know about Schreiber. There's no word on whatever happened to him." He laughed, rubbing his nose. "I hope that helps, Townshend. It's the least I can do for you."

Henry scoffed. "Thanks," he said. "I'll make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," Eddie said, turning away. "I'll be making good use of the time I have with Miss Galvin." He burst into maniacal giggles and walked off.

"Guy makes me sick," Henry spat, "but he did have something interesting to say. Imagine it! Fucking Schreiber was _here_!"

"He could be lying," James said. "I doubt Eddie's the most trustworthy guy."

"Even if he is, I have to check it out," Henry said. "If—"

"_Townshend_!"

Henry groaned, looking up to see Heather striding towards him, fists tightly clenched, eyes burning with rage. "Oh, fuck me," Henry muttered. "Here we go."

"Get up!" Heather yelled, slamming her palms down onto the table. "I need to talk to you right now!"

James looked between the girl and his friend, but Henry held up a hand to him. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll be right back." He stood up and followed Heather outside, where students ate and talked on benches or under the trees.

She turned to him, her face contorted in rage. "What the hell, Townshend?" she demanded. "What did you do? Eileen refuses to even walk outside because of you! What did you do? What did Dombrowski put you up to?"

"Do you think I wanted to do it?" Henry said, shaking his head. "I had no choice. I need to find out what's going on—and if I recall correctly, _Princess Heart_, you're the one who won't tell me the truth!"

"Is that what this is all about?" Heather cried. "You think I'm this Princess Heart? What the hell are you trying to find out, here? I already told you—I'm not. I have no idea what you're going on about!"

"I don't believe you," Henry said. "I saw you at the video store—you fought that lizard thing; you fought that moth thing; whatever the fuck happened yesterday evening was because of you, too! You're all over the news! I need to know why—_how_!"

"Look, I don't give a shit what you do!" Heather snapped at him. "You just stay away from Eileen! If you ever fuck with her or any of my friends or family again—if you _ever_—" She drew a breath and turned away from him, regaining her composure. "Has it—has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're getting in over your head? Maybe this whole thing just isn't worth it?"

"No," Henry said simply. "Even if it is, I have to keep going. I have to know. Whatever's going on here, Mason—I'm going to find out what it is." He sighed. "But I will promise you this. If I can avoid it, I won't talk to you or Eileen ever again. But you know"—he narrowed his eyes at her—"I don't think I'll be able to do that with you, now will I?"

"Whatever," Heather said. "I have nothing to say to you. Just don't go near her, okay? Please." She hesitated, then added. "You hurt her—you really did. So, please."

Henry nodded and, wordlessly, went back inside the cafeteria. Heather fell onto a bench, sighing, and Selina floated up to her. "It's dangerous for him to get involved," the fairy said. "If the Order finds him—"

"I know," Heather said, "I know." She screwed her eyes up. "Just someone else I have to worry about."

---

When Henry returned to the table, he was dismayed to find James surrounded by short skirts and raucous giggling. Maria was at the forefront, fawning over him.

"_Well_," Henry said loudly, "you get rid of one pest, and another comes crawling out of the fucking woodwork."

Maria looked up at him, her arms tangled around James' neck. "I wonder, Townshend—are you really concerned about James here, or are you just jealous?" The girls around her laughed; only Cynthia remained silent. "I mean, it would explain a lot," Maria went on. "A whole group of beautiful girls constantly following you around—me, granting you your every wish…" She laughed, facing him. "Really, you're just lonely. A lonely little boy."

"When I was in the fifth grade," Henry said, "there was a little bitch who liked to push around all the kids around. One day, she turned her sights on me—and guess what? I fucking punched her in the mouth because she pissed me off so much." He grinned. "I _really_ want to do that now—so why would I want to have you sluts hanging off me? Silicone and vaginal pus aside, of course."

"Your insults get weaker and weaker every time," Maria said, clicking her tongue. "Forget it, Townshend. We've got better things to do—more important people to talk to." She turned away, caressing James' cheek as she did so. "I'll see you later, James."

The other girls followed her, but Henry turned, raised his voice. "Velasquez!" he called, and she stopped and turned. Maria looked back in disdain, the girls exchanging glances.

"Why do you do it?" Henry asked. "Why do you hang out with these bitches? Where's that shred of dignity?"

Cynthia stared at him, her mouth wavering. Maria snorted.

"Come _on_, Cynthia—we don't have time for this. Better things to do, more important people to see—remember?"

"Give me an answer," Henry continued. "Are you afraid of what they'll think of you? Afraid of how they'll talk about you behind your back like they do with every other fucking person in this school? Tell me. Obviously you don't enjoy it."

"_Cynthia_," Maria lilted in disdain, "let's _go_."

Henry spread out his arms in expectation, but Cynthia shook her head and joined Maria and the others. "Good," Maria said. "No reason to humor him." She looked back at Henry, a smug smirk on her face. "What did you expect, Townshend? Did you think you'd prove a point? Maybe feel a little better about yourself? You're no better than anyone here."

They stalked off, and Henry grimaced, adjusting his backpack. James walked up to him.

"Henry—"

"Forget it," Henry said. "Let's just go to class."

---

Eileen sat on her bed, hood drawn over her head, flipping aimlessly through the channels. She pulled her knees against her chest and breathed heavily. It was quiet in the house; a car passed by outside, birds chirped.

The doorbell rang. Eileen didn't immediately hear it, her thoughts wandering, but gradually the sound registered. It buzzed a few more times before she made her way out of the room and into the kitchen.

She glanced out the window to see a man standing on the porch, his back turned to the door. He wore a dark coat, and his hair was long and wavy underneath a bowler hat. Eileen reached reluctantly for the door and opened it a crack.

"Hello?" she said, watching the man turn around, dark eyes hiding behind glasses. He smiled and tipped his hat towards her.

"Hello," he said. "Eileen Galvin?"

Quickly she retreated, closing the door, but his hand shot out and blocked it. "Not so fast, Eileen," he said. "You and I have to prepare for Heather."

---

"Dad? Dad, I'm home."

Heather entered her house, throwing her bag onto a chair at the dining table. She smelt spices and heard the sizzling of pans. Harry was in the kitchen, surrounded by all sorts of dishes and food. Chip was at his feet, tail wagging happily.

"What's going on?" Heather asked, looking over the commotion.

"Hey, sweetie," Harry said, glancing sideways at her. "I just thought I'd get dinner going early today." He watched her wander away, yawning. "How was school?"

"Just—drama," she sighed. "Eileen's having some guy trouble."

"Guy trouble?" Harry said, shaking his head. "Give her my condolences. High school can be tough."

"That's an understatement," she said, her mind drifting. "Do you remember that one guy I wouldn't shut up about? Stephen?"

"I remember," Harry said, turning back to the stove. "He was a pothead."

"I begged him to meet you, and when he finally had the balls to come over, you practically ran him out on his ass." She laughed. "It was a good thing you did, though. The guy was a loser."

Harry offered his daughter a small smile. "Listen, Heather—I trust you. I know you'll make good decision, so that's why I don't pry too much. But, you know—sometimes things just don't work out either way. So, don't be too hard on Eileen, alright?"

"I know, I know," Heather said. "I just think she has bad taste in men." Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she fished it out. A prompt flashed on the screen—a text. "Speaking of Eileen," she murmured, pressing a button and seeing the message appear on the screen. "I wonder what—"

**Heather. Come to the train yard. Eileen is waiting for you.**

She froze, reading the text message repeatedly, careful not to blurt out. Harry glanced her way. "Something wrong?"

She looked up at him, blinking, and then looked back down at her phone. "Um—uh—no. Nothing's wrong." She affected a laugh. "You know, it's just Eileen being dramatic again. She—she wants me to go over. I won't be long."

Harry saw her head for the door and stopped her. "Hey, what about dinner? It'll be ready soon."

"I'll be back," she said quickly, turning the doorknob. "I promise. I won't be long."

"Um—Heather!" he called after her before she was too far down the block. She popped her head back in.

"What? What is it?"

"Have you ever—been to the Balkan?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"The Balkan?" Heather repeated. "You mean the club? No." She hurried out.

"What—" Harry cut himself off with a sigh. "Nothing."

---

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Selina said, looking about as she trailed behind Heather. The girl glanced at her, stepping over some tracks.

"Eileen didn't send that text," she replied, passing by some barren train cars. The gravel crunched under her tennis shoes, and the wind was biting. The sky was darkening quickly. "I should've brought a jacket."

They walked into the center of the yard when a cry caught Heather's attention. "Heather!" She spun around to see Eileen standing in the shadow of an empty train car, her arms and legs bound with rope. Standing behind her was a man's form. Vincent stepped into the dying light, holding Eileen by the arm.

"Hello, Heather," he said.

"Vincent!" she growled. "Let Eileen go! Let her go _now_!"

Vincent chuckled, eyeing Eileen. "I told you before this wasn't a game," he said. "There are consequences for your actions. It is because of you that we are standing here now—because of you that things have come to this." He shoved Eileen away to the ground. Heather rushed towards her, but Vincent stood in her way, grinning.

"If you so much as touched a single hair—" Heather seethed.

"Relax, girl," he said. "She's fine—unharmed. I haven't hurt her at all. But—who knows if that may change."

"What do you want?" Heather demanded while keeping her eyes trained on her sobbing friend. "What do you want with her?"

"It's not her I'm concerned with," Vincent said. "It's you, Heather. You and the Seal of Metatron. I had to draw you out—make you feel the pain, the desperation! You humiliated me! You _shamed_ me! I thought I would make you feel some of that!"

"You're out of your mind," Heather said, taking out the pocket mirror. "I don't give a shit about your hurt ego. You went too far, dragging her into this! You won't get away with it!"

"I've done you a favor, actually," he said, spreading his arms out. "I've disobeyed orders by contacting you. Even now the Order is conspiring—they won't stop. Don't you see? Your commitment to your friends, to your family—that's what makes them the perfect targets! They won't stop until you've given up the seal! They'll target them all if that's what's necessary!"

"Then I'll just keep fighting them off," Heather said. "I'm not giving you this seal, and I'm not giving you the satisfaction of losing! So, come on! Bring out your little monsters, and let's get this over with!"

Vincent burst into laughter, unbuttoning his coat. "That's what I want to hear," he said, throwing the coat to the ground. "I want you to be angry—I want you to be passionate. If you've got nothing to lose, nothing to fight for, then you're nothing!" He took hold of his glasses and sent them flying. "That's why, Heather—that's why I brought your friend here! She'll watch as I tear you down when you're at your highest!"

Heather backed away, her eyes widening. "What are you doing?" she said, watching him remove a vial from his vest. He uncorked it and held above his head.

"I shall personally crush you!" he yelled, tipping the vial and dousing himself with its contents. The dark liquid splashed over his face, running down his neck and body. He chortled, his laughter high and diabolical. He threw the vial to the ground; it shattered.

"Vincent?" Heather asked, watching him lurch forward, laughing. "What did you do?"

His eyes shot up towards her, burning. "The power of God," he breathed, convulsing. "I can feel Her—I can feel Her coursing through my veins, shearing my body in two!" His muscles bulged and expanded, exploding out of his shirt as giant, black masses. His head swelled, the face deforming and degenerating into a dark, indistinguishable form. Long, jagged blades protruded from his arms, breaking through the skin.

Eileen screamed, witnessing the transformation, and Heather looked on in horror, unable to conjure words. Selina flew around the girl's head in circles, frantic. "He's becoming a demon!" she exclaimed. "I've—I've never seen anything like this!"

"_Heather_!" Vincent cried, his mutated, garbled voice coming from somewhere besides his vanished mouth. "Show me your true form! Transform! Unleash the power of Princess Heart! Unleash it _now_!"

Behind him, Eileen propelled herself away, struggling desperately to distance herself from the abomination now standing in Vincent's place. She turned her head, wincing, to watch the scene unfolding before. "Princess—Heart?"

"_Do it now_!" Vincent shouted, his transformation completing itself as his clothes fell to bits around his hunched, writhing form. He turned to Eileen, moving so quickly that she could barely scream before a blade was at her throat. "Transform, Heather!" he cried crazily, holding Eileen before him, the blade dangerously close to puncturing her skin. Eileen screamed again, crying with renewed tears.

"You really are insane," Heather mumbled, holding up the pocket mirror. "But if that's what it takes to get Eileen out of this, then I'll give you what you want!" She swung the mirror open. "_Heart power_!"

The familiar pink light flashed, leaving Heather costumed, the pink heart emblem on her chest shining. Vincent laughed, the sound terrifying. "Yes, that's it!" he cried. "Princess Heart! Come at me!"

"You son of a bitch!" Heather screamed, running at him. He threw Eileen down and took the full force of her punch. The blow knocked him into the train car behind, toppling it over. "Take that," Heather muttered harshly, glancing down at her friend. "Eileen—"

A figure flew out of the train car, framed against the sky for a split second before coming straight down like a meteor, blade extended outward. Heather jumped back, just barely avoiding the strike. Vincent touched down and then dashed around Heather with dazzling speed, too fast for her to dodge the next slash as it dug into her back, drawing a wide arc of blood into the air. She screamed, landing on her stomach.

Without a pause he was already upon her, poised to stab down. She managed to roll away as the blade pierced the ground, but Vincent quickly countered with a swift kick to the gut that sent her skidding into another train car.

"Is that it, Heather?" he questioned crazily. "Is that all the power Princess Heart possesses?"

Heather struggled up, light coalescing before her eyes. "Heather beam!" The lasers flew directly towards his chest, but the blades were already locked into an 'X,' deflecting the beams away into the oncoming night.

"No way," Heather gasped, too surprised to react as Vincent suddenly appeared in front of her. He swiped her to the side, driving her into the gravel.

"I'm disappointed," he said, giggling, as she flopped up onto her back. "I was expecting more—much, much more!" He slammed down onto her, interlocking the blades around her neck. Heather cried out, grabbing them, hardly strong enough to hold them apart. "How does it feel?" Vincent shouted. "How does it feel to taste defeat?"

"Defeat?" Heather sputtered. "Listen up—there—there is no way I'm losing to you!" The heart emblem glowed again, shining a magnificent pink.

"Is this some sort of trick?" Vincent demanded excitedly. "It doesn't matter—I'll be taking your life now, Princess Heart!"

He thrust the blades together, but it was not death that greeted Heather was she closed her eyes. There was no pain. Instead, she opened her eyes to a bright, glittering pink current enveloping her. She was floating along, suspended on nothing, suddenly at peace. The light was gentle and warm, soothing to the touch.

"Where—where am I?" she wondered aloud, her voice weak and feeble against the rush of the place. Out of the light above her, a figure faded into view—a woman, garbed in long, shimmering verdant robes. Beautiful and with long, blonde hair, she took Heather's hands.

"My dear princess," she said, her voice melodic and alluring, "you will forever be safe in my hands. I will protect you."

"…Mom?" Heather asked, dazed, as the woman pulled away. Heather's hands shined with light, and as she looked back up, she was once again staring into the vacant space where Vincent's face had belonged. She held his twin blades away, her hands aglow.

"What's this?" he demanded, and, with a cry, Heather forced him off, the light around her hands materializing into two pipes, one silver and the other gold.

"What are these?" she asked, brandishing them in astonishment.

"Princess Heart's weapons," Selina said in wonder. "You called upon their power!"

Vincent growled, waving his blades around erratically. "It's useless!" he cried. "You cannot defeat me!" He lunged at her, prepared to strike, and Heather ran to meet him.

"Come on!" she screamed, the two clashing. Sparks flew from their weapons meeting, and, suddenly, Heather stabbed forward, catching Vincent under the arm. He reared back, wounded, and she pulled her pipe away, splattering black blood across the gravel.

"I—I refuse to surrender!" he said. "I will defeat you! I cannot lose! _I cannot lose_!"

Heather stood her ground, panting. "I feel sorry for you," she said. "You really are pitiful."

"Shut up!" he roared. "You—are just a foolish girl! You have no idea what is truly at stake here! This power you play with—it is not a toy! I—" He stopped, a black void suddenly appearing beneath his feet. "_What's going on_?"

Heather stepped back instinctively, raising the pipes, and watched as thin, white-clad figures rose up, chaining their arms around Vincent. "Nurses?" he blurted, noting their dirtied, torn uniforms. Their faces turned in odd directions, absent of any actual features.

"Oh, Vincent," a woman's voice cooed, "look at you now."

"_You_!" Vincent barked.

Lisa giggled, leaning against the side of a train car some ways off. "I'm sorry for interfering in your little grudge match," she said, "but, you know—orders are orders." She smiled coyly. "Bye, Vincent."

"No!" he screamed, the nurses pulling down. "No, I'm not done yet! I must—I _cannot_—" They vanished into the darkness, and the void closed just as quickly as it had manifested. Lisa shrugged and sighed, clicking her tongue.

"How gross," she said. "I'll be damned if that ever happens to _me_." She turned to Heather, who took up her weapons. "Relax," she said. "I didn't come here to fight you. Vincent disobeyed orders. I had to make sure he was dealt with accordingly."

"You're—from the Order?" Heather asked breathlessly.

"Of course. Lisa Garland," she said, introducing herself. "I'm sure we'll be meeting again sometime soon, Princess Heart." She laughed and walked off, hands in her jacket pockets, leaving the train yard.

Heather watched her go, the pipes disappearing, followed by the costume. She breathed a relieved sigh and then hurried over to Eileen.

"Eileen! Eileen, are you all right?" she stammered, helping her friend up and untying her before hugging her tight. "Oh my God, Eileen—I'm so sorry. This should never have happened."

"Heather," Eileen said, pulling away, her eyes wide and sparkling, stunned. "Just—just what—what was all that?"

Heather blinked, the fact registering in her mind. Beside her head, Selina sighed. "I suppose you have a lot of explaining to do," she said, and Heather burst out laughing.

---

"You know, I get a lot of punks like you snooping around here," Richard Braintree said, leading Henry and James up the stairs. He was somewhere in his forties, his black hair streaked with gray. He wore a buttoned shirt and khaki slacks, a gaudy tie hanging around his neck. He dragged hard on a cigarette.

"You damn kids come by, trying to get me to lease the place. For what? So you can smoke out in there? Have sex?" He scowled, opening the door to the third floor hallway. "I should run you out right now."

"We're not here to make a deal, sir," James said. "We just want to check the room out; that's all."

"Well, if you're not here for business," Braintree said, "then why should I let you see it in the first place?"

"Man, stop fucking around," Henry groaned. "Just let us see the place. If we like it, we'll pay you and bring loads of booze and ass and raise a ruckus. How about that?"

"You think you're pretty funny, don't you?" Braintree asked, shaking his head. "You're a goddamned loser, kid—get that through your head while you still have a chance." He stopped by a door, locking his cigarette between his teeth and fiddling with the ring of keys. The corridor was dimly lit, the green carpet stained and unclean. James waited patiently; Henry paced around, thumbs hooked into his pockets.

"Here—302," Braintree said, at last finding the correct key. Henry and James turned to the door, pausing, as Braintree unlocked and opened it. He stood aside, gesturing in. "Ten minutes. I want you out of there by then."

"That's fine," James said. "Thanks."

Braintree grunted and walked out, glaring at Henry as he went. Once he was gone down the hall, Henry rolled his eyes. "What an asshole," he said, flipping on the lights of the apartment. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised this place has become such a shithole. It's too bad your dad had to leave it."

"Yeah," James said, treading into the living area. The apartment was unremarkable; a small kitchen opened to their immediate left, and down the hall to the right was the bedroom and restroom across from each other. James poked his head into each, looking over the bare rooms and few pieces of furniture still remaining.

"Doesn't anyone clean around here?" Henry asked back in the living room, stepping around a chair in the corner. He moved over to the bookshelf in the opposite corner, glancing at a few of the volumes leaning in the dusty shadows. "Place is a germ hive."

"Schreiber's been gone for a few months, right?" James inquired, walking back and looking into the laundry room. "Everything seems pretty normal. There's nothing out of place in the other rooms."

Henry lowered down onto his haunches, peering at the books. One caught his eye, sandwiched between two others, its spine rotting. "_The Tempest_," Henry said thoughtfully, pulling it out and flipping through the pages. Some tattered, red leaflets of paper were caught inside, wrinkled and smeared with ink. He dumped them out and spaced them out over the carpet.

"I think I found something," he said, looking back over his shoulder at James.

"What is it?" James queried, coming out of the laundry room.

"I don't know." Henry picked some of the pages up, reading the scattered snippets.

**July 17****th****. Still trapped. I call for help, but no one hears.**

**June 30****th****. Nothing's matching up. Sullivan committed suicide. There has to be some explanation. Could he still be alive? I went to Silent Hill, but his grave wasn't there.**

"What is all of this?" Henry murmured, holding up another page.

**July 3****rd****. I woke up today and found chains blocking the door. There's no way to remove them. And the door is chained from inside the apartment. I can't open the windows either. What is going on? Did I cause this to happen?**

**August 1****st****. I think I'm beginning to understand what this is. It's a trial. A test. He did this. Sullivan did this.**

**August 21****st****. I'm starting to go blind, and when I do see things, it's unnatural. I'm number 15. He is NOT DEAD THEY BROUGHT HIM BACK**

Henry dropped the sheets and reached for the final one. Portions of it were covered completely in black ink, as if erased.

**August 28****th****. 21 murders. Sullivan was number 11 I'm 15. There will be six more. He won't stop. If someone wants to stop him, they must**

**his flesh. But even though I managed to find it I couldn't destroy it. I couldn't do it I couldn't separate him**

**August 30****th****. 13. Sharon Blake 14. 15. Joseph Schreiber 16. Cynthia Velasquez 17. 18. Andrew DeSalvo 19. 20. 21.**

Henry stood up, collecting the pages and holding them to the paltry light. James came up behind him. "What is it? Henry?"

Henry looked at him, swallowing hard. "He's dead," he said casually. "Schreiber's dead. Walter Sullivan killed him. And—" He passed the pages on to James. "Velasquez is next."

**END EPISODE 05**

**Eileen knows Heather's secret! As the girls find solace with each other, Henry's search for truth becomes a personal quest for justice—but will he succeed?**

**Next time on **_**The**__** Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 06: Henry's Desperation! The Conjurer Arrives!"**

**Don't miss it!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	6. Henry's Desperation!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 06: Henry's Desperation! The Conjurer Arrives!**

"It could be anyone!" James said, watching Henry rummage through the cabinets and drawers of the apartment, searching for a phonebook. "Henry, listen to me! How much worth are you going to put into these little papers, anyway? How do you know any of it's true!"

"It makes sense," Henry replied, throwing open the laundry room and peeking in. "I—I remember that name! Sharon Blake? I remember seeing the news report when they found her body. She had numbers carved into her corpse—just like Wheeler said!"

He went inside the bedroom, looking through the closet. "And Schreiber?" he called back. "How do you explain that? He was investigating Sullivan, and Sullivan killed him! They never found the body, so it was assumed he just disappeared! But of course he didn't just fucking disappear!"

"Henry, Walter Sullivan's _dead_," James said, entering the bedroom. "Wheeler said as much—said he stabbed himself in the neck. How could he possibly kill anyone after that?"

Henry looked back at James in annoyance. "And a fucking lizard thing coming out of the ground isn't just a little unrealistic, either? Come on, James. Open up your mind a bit—throw out whatever idea you had of natural order. This is _not_ natural shit we're dealing with." He fell to his knees and pulled aside the sheets for a look under the bed. "Fucking people are in danger. I can't just let them die."

"Henry," James said, "Henry, calm down. There's not going to be a phonebook in here—and even if there were, what would you tell Cynthia? She's not going to believe whatever you have to say."

"That's not the point," Henry said, standing. "I have to try. Look, you can't tell me something fucked isn't happening here. Whether it's really Sullivan or some copycat, people are still being killed."

James sighed and shook his head. "I—I don't know what to think. Even if I tell you you're getting too ahead of yourself, you won't listen."

"Nope."

"Well, look—I bet Braintree has a phonebook."

---

"Did you at least turn of all the lights? Put everything back in place?" Braintree glared at Henry and James from behind the reception desk. The lobby was dark and almost cozy, some laps casting dim glows.

"Yeah, yeah, we did," James said, laughing nervously. "We made sure everything was fine." Beside him, Henry quickly thumbed through a phonebook, jotting down names and numbers on a notepad. Sticking out of his back pocket were the crimson leaflets left behind by Joseph Schreiber.

"Don't you two have somewhere to be?" Braintree asked. "Some sort of party, or something?"

"Uh, no, sir," James said, but at that moment his cell phone rang. He pulled it out, answered it. "Hello? Oh, hey Alex. Yeah, yeah, sure."

As he talked, Henry glanced sideways at him. "Guess you jinxed it," he said to Braintree. He slammed the book shut and tore off the page with the numbers. "Thanks. Let's go, James."

"Have fun," Braintree said as they left. He snorted, muttering under his breath, "Damn punks."

Outside on the street, the sky was dark. James clicked out of the conversation and pocketed his phone. "Alex called," he said. "Wants to know if we want to meet him and Elle at Good Ol' Days tomorrow after school."

Henry turned to him, the list crumpled in a fist. "Sure, whatever," he said. "Why doesn't he just ask us tomorrow?"

James shrugged, walking over to his friend. "Listen, Henry—get some sleep tonight, okay? We'll handle this when we get to it."

"Yeah—yeah, sure." Henry nodded down the street. "I guess we should get going."

---

Cynthia Velasquez sat on her bed in her sleeping gown, her long hair loose and soft from the recent shower. She hugged her knees to her chest, listening to the traffic pass down below. The room was dark, the only light coming from the lamp at the side of the bed. She glanced out the window at the city, its lights twinkling in the night.

She thought back to her encounter with Henry during lunch, how he had accosted her. She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning back. The pillows were soft underneath her head. From the other side of the wall she could hear the muffled sounds of the television on in the living room of the apartment.

There was a knock at the door. It opened, and her mother appeared in the doorway. She was shorter than Cynthia, rounder, her dark face wrinkled and her hands rough. A golden rosary hung around her neck. "_Mi hija_," she said, "someone's calling you." Her voice was soft, tired.

Cynthia stood from the bed, glancing at her cell phone beside the lamp. She looked to her mother. "Who is it?"

"A boy," she said. Cynthia followed her into the cramped living room, a sofa and two armchairs facing the television. Her younger brother, his hair short and cropped, his cheek cut, sat at the kitchen table, working on some homework. She passed him into the little kitchen area, where the telephone lay on its back next to the receiver. She held it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Velasquez?" She started, surprised.

"Townshend?"

"Good.I'm glad I finally got the right number." Henry sat at his computer in the darkness of his room, his cell phone cradled between his ear and neck. "I tried, like, five fucking numbers before this one. I almost gave up."

Cynthia turned away from the living room and towards the window overlooking the parking lot of the apartment complex. She leaned over the sink, sighing. "Why are you calling me?" she asked.

"I—uh." Henry paused on the other end of the line. "I guess I was just checking if you were all right."

"What?"

"If you were safe," Henry said. "I guess—I can't really explain it. It's fucking complicated, is what it is."

"What is this, Townshend?" she inquired, lowering her voice, irritated. "Is this a joke? Do you have fun fucking around with me?"

"No," Henry replied. "No—that's not it. I was just—just—I don't know what I was doing. I thought you might be in trouble."

She shook her head in frustration. "No, I'm not. I'm fine. Is—is that all? Is that it?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah. I'll let you go." She nodded to herself, pulling away, when his voice sounded again. "Velasquez."

She groaned. "What?"

"If anything happens, I want you to call me."

"What do you mean?"

"Just—if something happens. Will you write down my cell number?"

She sighed. "Yes, okay." She grabbed a pencil from a drawer and pulled a napkin to the counter. "What is it?"

Henry told her the number, and she scrawled it down. "Okay, I got it."

"Good," he said. "Alright. Good night."

She said nothing, placing the phone down onto the receiver. She folded the napkin and carried it with her as she headed back to her room. Her mother looked up from the sofa, the glow of the television upon her face. "What did he want?"

"Nothing. It was a question on some homework," Cynthia lied. "I'm going to bed early. Good night."

"_Buenas noches_," her mother said, her own eyes heavy and closing. Cynthia turned and continued on back to her room, but her brother stopped her.

"Cindy," he said, his voice cracking. "Can you help me? I'm stuck."

Cynthia sighed, flashing her brother a weak smile. "Sure," she said after a moment. "What is it?"

That night, Cynthia slept well, her mind dwelling only briefly on Henry Townshend.

---

"Were you doing homework last night?" Henry's mother Vicky asked as she washed the dishes the following morning. Henry sat at the kitchen table, dark-eyed, chewing on a strip of bacon.

His mother was short but not stumpy, her hips healthily wide. Her hair was bundled, chestnut and soft. She looked back at him over her glasses.

"Yeah," Henry said simply. "It took a while to get done, but it wasn't so bad." He briefly glanced at his backpack, where the red pages sat tucked away. "Will left early today?"

"Your father had a meeting," Vicky said, her voice strained. "I think he was considering getting you that camera you wanted."

Henry guffawed through a mouthful of egg. "That's a laugh, Mom. You should be a comedian."

She sighed, switching off the faucet. "Why do you have to be like that?" she said. "I thought you'd be happy."

"The only reason he'd get me the camera," Henry said, picking up his glass of orange juice, "is to use it as leverage for some of his shit. Or to shut me up for a while." He gulped his juice. "If he gets me that camera, expect it to stay unopened. Put a bow on it and use it as a Christmas gift."

She sighed again, casting him a tired glance. "I wish you two would meet each other halfway."

"That'd be accepting defeat," Henry said, standing and taking his dish and glass over to the sink. "I refuse to lose, Mom."

She squeezed his shoulder, smiling sadly. "I know. Now help me with these dishes before you leave."

---

"Hey." Maria leaned on the restroom sink, applying her lipstick, catching Cynthia as she walked in through the mirror. She pushed back some of her hair behind an ear, smiling. "You look ruffled."

"Ruffled?" Cynthia repeated, sighing and planting her purse on the sink's surface. Her hair was in a bun, some bangs falling across her brow; she smoothed out her blouse and denim skirt. "I slept pretty good, actually," she said, fishing out her lipstick and mascara.

Maria watched her put on her makeup, eyeing her movements. "You know, sometimes I wonder," she said.

Cynthia glanced her way, holding an eye open, the mascara brush gliding over her eyelashes. "About what?"

"You," Maria said, shrugging. "What happened yesterday? Why did Townshend call you out?"

"How should I know?" Cynthia snapped back. "He's just looking for someone to look down on—you said so yourself." She capped her mascara, blinking at her reflection in the mirror. She pursed her lips, softening the gloss.

"You don't seem so sure about that," Maria said, appraising Cynthia's reflection, as well. "The way you look at him—"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Cynthia said. "We had Health together—that was it. He likes to pick on me because of that."

"And you don't agree with what he says?" asked Maria. "You're not bothered by it at all?"

"No," Cynthia said, shifting her eyes, "I'm not. He's just a loser—right?"

"Right," Maria said, smiling all the while, never taking her eyes off Cynthia. She stepped back, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "What do you think about going to Days after school? It is Friday, after all—no reason to stay sober."

"Sure," said Cynthia quietly, watching Maria leave. Once she was alone, the girl turned back to the mirror. She pressed a palm to her forehead and then washed off her makeup.

---

"I guess Dad's out," Heather said, walking into the kitchen. Chip looked up at her from the couch, curled up, and went back to sleep. She dumped her bag onto a chair and threw open the refrigerator. "You want something?" she asked, looking at Eileen.

"Nah, I'm fine," Eileen said, leaning back against the dining table. She yawned, removing her own bag. "So—are you going to tell me more, or what?"

Selina flew around, glittering light trailing behind her. "I wouldn't expect too much talk from her," she said. "Six-second attention span."

"Hush, you," Heather said, closing the refrigerator with a foot and popping open a soda can. "I already told you some of it last night, anyway." She took a swig of the soda. "The guy who kidnapped you—he was from this group called the Order. They want this, or whatever." She brought out the pocket mirror, holding it up for Eileen to see.

"It's still just _crazy_," Eileen said. "I mean, you're _Princess Heart_, Heather! _Princess Heart_! What happened at the video store—what happened at the school—you were there! You saved all of us!"

"Eh, it was nothing," Heather said, making gang signs in the air. "Half the time I don't know what I'm doing."

"I wish she'd be more careful," Selina remarked. "It's not a game!"

"Yeah, yeah," Heather said, waving her off. "Point is, I'm motherfucking Princess Heart, _bitch_!" She fell onto the couch, holding her soda in the air. "You know, I guess it hasn't really sunk in yet. You'd think I'd be a little more shell-shocked."

"You're a superhero," Eileen said bluntly. "You can shoot laser beams from your eyes, for fuck's sake!"

Heather sat up, her smirk fading. "Still, it bothers me." She looked to Selina. "What Vincent did last night—he—just how did he do that?" she asked. "And that—that god he mentioned—what did he mean?"

"I—don't know," the fairy replied meekly. "The demons' power is extensive, and we fairies don't really know just how far it reaches." She offered Heather a reassuring smile. "But you did well, Princess! You won! You unlocked Princess Heart's weapons!"

"Yeah," Heather said, sighing. "But it was close—too close. I have to be ready—more prepared."

"Then maybe you should train?" Eileen proposed.

Heather looked at her with interest. "Train?"

"Yeah," the girl said. "Just go out into the woods and shoot at the trees, or something. I could help you with it."

"She has a point," Selina said. "We should do something besides wait for them to attack."

"You're right," Heather said, staring down at the pocket mirror. "I still don't have a clue why I can do it. Why _am_ I Princess Heart?"

As the question lingered between them, the door opened. Selina slipped back into Heather's pocket. Harry walked in, toting bags of groceries between his arms. "Hey, sweetie," he said, seeing Heather, and this gaze found Eileen. "And Eileen! It's good to see you."

"Hey, Mr. Mason," she said. "Um, do you need help?"

"No," Harry said, "I've got it." He placed the bags down on the counter in the kitchen. "So, will you be eating with us tonight?"

"I guess so," Eileen said, and she and Heather giggled.

---

Good Ol' Days smelt of alcohol and food, the air thick with the scents. Low lights gave off muted glows, and the various neon signs on the walls colored the haze a vibrant rainbow. Music played from the jukebox in the corner, and opposite the bar were a row of pool tables. Balls flew back and forth, colliding with each other upon the felt.

"I'm glad you two could make it," Alex said, taking a swig of his root beer. He and Elle, her underneath his letterman jacket, sat in one of the far booths against the wall. Henry and James were across them. The friends drank their sodas, passing the fried onion dish between them.

"Well, it's not often we all get to hang out anymore," James said, dipping a sliver of onion into the cup of sauce in the center. "It feels like middle school was just yesterday, doesn't it? Now we're already getting ready to go our separate ways."

"That we are," Alex said. "We should take advantage of the time we have while we can."

"You guys act as if we'll never see each other again," Elle said, cozying up to her boyfriend. "I won't be _that_ far off."

"It is still sort of far," James said, chuckling. "I mean, we won't be able to do this after you leave."

"Just you watch, Alex," Henry said, looking up, "Elle will complete her lesbian transformation and forget all about you. I won't be surprised if her roommate's some bitch who braids her fucking pubic hair."

Alex chuckled. "I'm not too worried," he said, him and Elle meeting each other's gaze. "We didn't make it through all of high school just to lose it, you know." They shared a quick kiss, and Henry snorted.

"Get a goddamn room."

James smiled. "It's admirable," he said. "A lot of relationships just fall apart after enough time."

"Don't listen to him," Henry said, propping an elbow on the table. "He's just bitter about Mary. You know how it is—something about Mary." He choked out an awkward laugh.

"Henry," James reproached, but Elle spoke up.

"You know, I see her less and less," she said, concerned. "I hope everything's okay."

James looked at her, contemplative, but said nothing. The four of them sat in silence, dead air reigning. Henry cleared his throat.

"Alex," he said. "You remember what we were doing the other day? At the police station?"

Elle looked between the boys, her brow furrowing. "What's he talking about?"

"Henry's—looking up some stuff on a journalist," Alex replied, rolling up his sleeves. "What was his name again?"

"Schreiber," Henry said. "Joseph Schreiber. Anyway, me and James found his apartment last night. He was living here—in Ashfield."

"Really?" Alex sipped his root beer. "Didn't you say he'd disappeared?"

"Yeah," Henry said, "while he was investigating those copycat murders. Walter Sullivan, remember?" He reached behind him and produced the red pages. "I found these fuckers in the apartment. Take a gander."

He threw them down onto the table. Alex slid them over, and he and Elle skimmed through them. James leaned towards Henry. "Was that such a good idea?" he asked. "Getting them involved?"

"They were already involved," Henry said curtly. "Besides—we're going to need all the help we can get."

Alex looked up at them, perplexed. "I don't—I don't get this," he said. "These are from the journalist?"

"Yeah." Henry shrugged. "Whoever's copying Sullivan killed him, too—although apparently Schreiber's under the impression that it _is_ Sullivan."

"Back—from the dead?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Henry, we need to take this to the police," Alex said, lowering his voice. "Show this to Wheeler. If Schreiber really is—"

"We can't do that," Henry said loudly. "The police will just fuck this up like they do everything. While they're playing Twister over their goddamn reports, people are being murdered!"

"Keep your voice down," James said, and Henry rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I'm showing this to you," he said, looking towards Alex and Elle, "because if something happens—I may need your help."

"Is this about those murders with the numbers?" Elle asked. "The bodies with the numbers carved into them?"

"Yep."

"Jesus Christ." She looked to Alex and then Henry. "What are you guys getting yourselves involved in? Alex is right, Henry—this is for the police to handle, not you."

"Read the fucking last one!" Henry growled, pointing at the page with the list of names. "See one of the names on that list? Cynthia Velasquez—fucking Velasquez is next!"

"That Cynthia?" Elle inquired. "Are you sure?"

"Who the fuck else is it going to be?"

"Let's slow down," Alex said sternly, sighing. "We shouldn't be talking about this here."

"He's right," James said. "Let's just take it slow, Henry. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"We may not have the time," Henry said gravely.

---

In the next room over, under the crimson glow of the spotlights, Maria and several other girls played pool. With deadly force she snapped the cue ball off, rocketing the balls over the table. Some fell into the holes, and, with a leer, she passed the stick off to another girl.

"Your turn," she said, giggling, grabbing her beer from a nearby table and tipping it to her lips. She turned her icy gaze to Cynthia, who leaned against the wall, occupied with her phone. Maria giggled again.

"What's wrong, Cindy? Aren't you having fun?"

"I'm having a blast," Cynthia said, glancing at her briefly. "Don't worry about me."

"It doesn't look like you're enjoying yourself, actually," Maria said, shifting next to her, "and if you're not enjoying yourself, none of us are." Some of the girls watched the exchange nervously.

"I'm fine," Cynthia said. She nodded towards the pool table. "You have a game going on."

"Oh, I don't care about the game," Maria said, placing her hand on Cynthia's phone and pushing it down. "I like people to look at me when I'm talking to them, by the way. I thought you would've known by now."

Cynthia faced her, silent.

"That's more like it," Maria said, smirking. "You see, _Cindy_, I put a lot of emphasis on group—what do you call it—_cohesion_? Some bullshit from biology, or whatever—you get what I mean."

"Yeah," Cynthia said. "Cohesion."

"Exactly." Maria gestured towards the other girls in a wide arc. "All of us here, we're like one big family. We lean on each other, we help each other get back up—and we don't keep secrets. No, we _don't_ keep secrets."

She leaned against the pool table, frowning. "But lately, Cindy, I've just gotten this weird vibe from you—like you're nervous, or something. You've been distant. So, I can't help but wonder—_do_ you have any secrets to share?"

"No," Cynthia replied thickly, "I don't." She shook her head. "Everything's fine."

"Denial!" Maria exclaimed, laughing, looking at the other girls. "Cynthia here is in denial! It has to be that—otherwise, she'd be _lying_. And we don't lie to each other, Cindy. Family does not lie to each other."

She raised her brow. "So, I'll ask again—is there anything you'd like to share with us?" Her eyes lit up maliciously. "Let me guess—it _is_ Townshend, isn't it?"

"What?"

"I'm right, aren't I?" Maria laughed. "Oh, the way you look at him. Every time he calls you a whore, a _slut_, you enjoy it, don't you?" She scowled. "That's disgusting, you getting off on what he says. He's scum—the worst kind. And you'd go down on him, I bet. You'd let him _ravish_ you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Cynthia shot at her. "He has nothing to do with this!"

"Denying the truth again!" Maria cried. "Don't try to fool me, Cindy—don't try to fool _us_. You'd love to feel his cock inside of you, _digging_ its way up. _Wouldn't_ you? You'd love to be dominated like that, because, deep down, you know he's right. Is that it? You don't like the way people talk about you? You don't like the way they look at you? How they chant 'slut' behind your back?"

"Fuck off, Maria," Cynthia seethed. "We used to be best friends—don't you remember that? Then—then—something happened." She grimaced, eyeing the girl. "You _changed_. You want to know the truth? I fucking hate you—I _despise_ you. You treat everyone else like shit because it makes you feel better about yourself. Maybe Townshend's the same as you, but at least he's not a hypocrite."

"And the truth comes out," Maria said, shaking her head slowly. "Well, Cindy, was that so hard? I mean, I was just spouting bullshit—I didn't know it was _true_." She snickered, glancing back at the other girls. "Can you believe that? It's just crazy."

Cynthia glared at her, wordless, averting her gaze.

"What's wrong?" Maria asked mockingly. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Cynthia stormed past her, her head down, her purse held closely. Maria shrugged, sighing, and held her beer up for another drink. She cast her eyes to the other girls, all of them frozen, staring at her cautiously. "What?" she demanded angrily. "Let's keep fucking playing."

---

Cynthia cried on the subway ride home, bowing her head, letting the tears run silently. She was alone in the car, aside from the man sitting in the corner, covered in rags and blankets. His thin, grimy face turned to her shortly, his eyes glazed and distant. Cynthia barely noticed him; she kept her eyes on her hands in her lap, feeling the car rock around her.

Finally, the passing lights outside in the tunnel came to a stop. The train slowed, braked, easing to a halt at the platform. The doors opened, and Cynthia shuffled out, eyes bloodshot. As she walked onto the empty platform, white and dingy, a fresh round of tears assaulted her. She pressed her head against a pillar, sobbing, the silence around her encompassing. The blackness of the tunnels yawned, seemingly endless. The lights were cold and hard. A vending machine hummed nearby, its snacks unappealing.

She found herself ambling over to a bench, drawing a long breath and sitting. She sniffled, clearing her throat, wiping her cheeks clean of both tears and fading mascara. She remained like that for a few minutes before poking through her purse and bringing out her phone. She stared at the screen for a long while, meditative, before pulling out the napkin where Henry's number was scrawled. She dialed.

---

"See you, James," Alex said from his car. James waved off from his doorstep, unlocking the door and going inside. The night was dark around them, almost suffocating. Alex rolled up his window and thumbed the steering wheel. In the back, Henry sat alone, focused on the sky outside, his mouth covered with a hand. Elle and James were gone.

"Henry," Alex said, glancing at him via the rearview mirror. "I wanted to wait for the others to leave before I talked to you."

"What is it?" Henry asked with a sigh.

"It's about this stuff you're getting yourself into," Alex said.

"Ah, fuck," Henry groaned. "What—"

"I'm not trying to discourage you," Alex told him. "That's not what I'm saying. I just think it's dangerous. I mean, I look at Elle—and I think to myself, I can't let anything to her. I can't hurt her, Henry, and that includes not letting me get hurt, too. You know what I mean?"

Henry turned his way, sighing again. "Yeah," he said after a protracted moment. "Yeah, I get you."

"Okay." Alex shrugged. "The same way I don't want to hurt her, I don't want to hurt you or James. You guys are my best friends—always have been, always will be. It doesn't matter what happens after we leave high school. You guys will be my friends. You'll be there for me; I'll be there for you."

"Fucking hell, man," Henry said, "chill. I'm not going to kill myself, or something stupid like that."

"I know that," said Alex. "Just—be aware that even if you don't hurt yourself, you might hurt other people. Alright? You can't just do whatever you want. You're reckless—all I'm saying is that you keep your head. Don't be rash."

Henry nodded. "Look, don't worry. It's just—you wouldn't believe me, Alex. You know about that Princess Heart character, right? It's—" His phone rang, cutting him off. He answered it. "Hello?"

"...Townshend?"

Henry narrowed his eyes. "Velasquez? Is that you?"

Cynthia sniffled on the bench, holding her head with a hand. "Yeah. Yeah—you said—you said I could call you."

Henry exchanged glances Alex before replying. "Yeah, I did. What is it? What's wrong?"

"I just—I need to talk," she said, some more tears running. "Can—can I see you?"

Henry heard her sob and breathe. "Velasquez, listen—"

"Please, Henry," she said. "I need—"

She stopped abruptly, interrupted. Henry pressed the phone to his ear. "Velasquez? Are you—"

"I thought I heard something," she said, standing from the bench. She threw looks down each end of the platform, but it was empty, quiet. "I'm, um—I'm at the Lynch Street platform. Can I—can I meet you someplace? I—" She froze again, a thud sounding far off. Some of the lights flickered. The shadows seemed to extend, covering the platform.

"Velasquez? What's going on?" Henry's voice sounded from the phone; some static fragmented his words. "Answer me, Velasquez. What's going on?"

"It's—it's nothing," she said. "Nothing's—"

She stopped, her voice caught in her throat. The lights across from her shut off, enveloping the area in darkness. Somewhere within, movement caught her eye. She backed up instinctively, her heart drumming her chest. Movement again—a figure appeared from the shadows, tall, daunting. The lights went on for a single moment, revealing the large frame, the stoic form.

"Oh, God," she murmured into the phone. "Oh, my God! Oh, God—"

"Velasquez?" Henry questioned, sitting up. "Velasquez, what the hell's going on? Cynthia!"

Across from her, the man approached. He walked slowly, his footfalls echoing through the subway. He was hooded, wearing a dark blue coat coupled with a pair of wrinkled, khaki slacks. Splotches of blood adorned the coat and pants. Under the hood, his lips moved, mouthing a single word.

"Temptation."

She screamed. On Henry's end, it warbled, distorted. "Velasquez? Cynthia?" he cried back. "What the fuck's happening?"

"He's coming!" he heard her scream, and then line went dead, a single, continuous hum the only feedback. Henry and Alex stared at each other, both of their faces pale and bloodless.

"Lynch Street," Henry said suddenly, quickly. "Lynch Street!"

"Henry, we—"

"Alex, just drive for fuck's sake!"

---

Henry and Alex hurried through the turnstiles and down the platform stairs, skipping over steps to the bottom. "Velasquez!" Henry called desperately. "Cynthia, where are you?"

"You're positive she said Lynch Street?" Alex asked, and Henry nodded quickly.

"Yes! Where the fuck—where is she?" They wandered around the platform, calling her name, and suddenly Henry saw it—her phone, off to the side, near the edge. He snatched it up, adrenaline pumping in his veins. "Cynthia!"

"She must have gone down the tracks," Alex said. He fumbled with his own phone. "Henry, I'm calling 911—"

Henry was already running off down the tracks, screaming Cynthia's name. "Henry!" Alex yelled after him. "Henry, wait!"

They scrambled onto the next platform, nearly tripping down its expanse. They passed by a pair of escalators, stopping, Henry still calling out. "Cynthia! _Cynthia_!"

A scream cut him short not too far off. "That's her!" he cried. "Cynthia!" They continued on through a maintenance room, finding the platform beyond. "Cynthia—"

She ran into him, a mess, crying and sobbing, shuddering against him. "Cynthia—" Henry held her at arm's length, looking over her. "What happened? What's going on?"

"It's him!" she screamed frantically. "That man—_he's coming_! Oh, God, Henry!"

Henry held her again, looking at Alex with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped short, witnessing a figure approach from the opposite end of the platform. "Holy shit!" Alex uttered in surprise. Henry turned away.

"Let's go!" he screamed. "_Let's go_! Alex!"

Alex turned to him, looking back and forth between his friend and the oncoming man. "Take her!" he cried at last. "Get out of here, Henry! I'll distract him!"

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" Henry yelled at him. "Alex—"

"Just go!" Alex shouted, and, reluctantly, Henry pulled away with Cynthia behind him.

"Come on!" he told her, and they ran off. Alex turned back, startled to find the man already upon him, towering. He caught a glimpse of long, unruly blond hair under the hood, of a pair of vacant, glassy green eyes.

Alex doubled back, reaching for a discarded plank of wood leaning against a vending machine. He hefted it and swung, but with an uncanny ease the man caught the plank with one hand and just as easily threw it to the side.

"Holy shit," Alex muttered, punching at the man. His fist vanished into the man's palm, and he clamped down, his grip crushing. Alex cried out in pain; the man advanced on him.

---

"Fuck!" Henry muttered, leading Cynthia to the center of the next platform. "Fuck! It's fucking Sullivan! It has to be!" He spun around, searching desperately for an avenue of escape. "The stairs are at the other end; let's go!" He took Cynthia by the arm and ran, but she tripped and stumbled down.

"Henry, wait!" she cried, skidding her bare knees. Henry went back, breathless.

"We've got to move!" he exclaimed. "That guy will be back any fucking second! Cynthia! You've got to stop crying—get it together!"

"He's going to kill me!" she managed through a string of sobs. "He's going to kill me, Henry!"

"No, he's not!" he cried at her. "I won't let that happen, do you fucking hear me? I won't let that happen! I'll protect you!"

She embraced him tightly, crying into his shoulder. "He'll kill you, too, Henry! Oh, God—_he'll kill you, too_!"

"No!" he responded fiercely, looking up to see the man at the other end of the platform, still approaching undeterred. "We're getting out of here alive! Come on!"

They rushed off, jumping off the platform to save time. The tracks stretched on endlessly; Henry could hear nothing but their collective panting. "Henry—stop!" he heard her cry behind him. "Henry, please! Oh, God!"

"He's coming, for fuck's sake!" he yelled. "We can't—"

From the shadows, the man suddenly appeared before them, blocking the way. "What the fuck?" Henry blurted before the man swept him aside. He toppled over the tracks, rolling into the edge of the platform. He crawled forward, wincing. "Cynthia—_no_!" he bellowed. "_Cynthia_!"

She screamed, swinging wildly at the man as he took her by the throat and pinned her against the tunnel wall. Her cries degenerated into gasps; the man tightened his grip, and, with his free hand, produced a long, stained knife.

"Stop, you son of a bitch!" Henry cried, tears stinging his eyes. "Goddamn it, _stop_!"

The man plunged the blade into Cynthia's gut. She stopped wriggling; her head flopped forward, and a gurgle escaped her. The man removed the knife forcefully, blood splattering onto the tracks, and then stabbed again, and yet again, each time harder than the last. Henry watched, unable to will himself forward. Cynthia spat out a glob of blood, coughing, the blade moving up, puncturing her bosom. Her body fell limp.

After what seemed like an eternity, Henry stared on, horrified, as her body dropped like a rag doll. The man knelt down, turning the knife around in his hand, and set it down upon her left breast. The blade broke skin, dashing up and down, as if inscribing.

The man rose up, finished. Blood dripped from his hands.

Henry said nothing—his voice was gone. The man turned to him for only a moment before walking off into the darkness of the tunnel. His footfalls disappeared. Henry was alone.

He stood up shakily and walked over to Cynthia. Amazingly, her eyes were still full of light, alive. She gasped for each breast, her throat filling with blood. Henry fell to his knees beside her wordlessly. Slowly she reached up to him, touching his cheek. She tried to speak, but all that came out of her mouth was a gurgle. Streaks of red dribbled down her chin. Her eyes went blank. Her hand fell, leaving faint crimson marks on Henry's cheek. He looked down at her breast. The numbers read "16121." He screamed.

---

"This is really good, Mr. Mason!" Eileen exclaimed, stuffing her mouth with more scalloped potatoes. Harry laughed from this seat.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "It's good to know there's _someone_ who likes my food." He sent a knowing glare Heather's way.

"What?" she laughed, raising her glass of tea to her lips. "I just state the facts, Dad. It is what it is."

"Clearly Eileen disagrees," Harry replied, watching her gorge on a chicken leg. He sighed. "You should come for dinner more often, Eileen."

"I really should!" she said through a mouthful. "This is great stuff, Mr. Mason!"

Heather giggled. "Slow down, girl. You'll choke and die, or something. And I am _not_ performing CPR."

"Oh, I bet you would," Eileen said, licking her lips clean.

"That's really gross, Eileen," Heather said. "I mean, we're eating."

Harry smiled, watching the two girls banter. He drank some tea and looked to Eileen.

"So, Eileen," he said. "Heather tells me you've been going through some boy trouble."

She looked at him, swallowing. "Boy trouble?" she repeated, glancing between him and Heather. She considered this shortly, finally a renewed smile spreading over her face. "You know, I think I'll be okay. I can do better—right?"

**END EPISODE 06**

**The times are changing! Harry pursues a new relationship, while Heather must deal with attacks from the Order! And what will come of the murder spree terrorizing Ashfield?**

**Next time on**_** The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 07: Repercussions!"**

**Watch out!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	7. Repercussions!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 07: Repercussions!**

"Hey, kid—you're free to go."

Wheeler leaned against the doorway, propping himself up with an elbow. Henry looked up from the bench in the station lobby, his jacket in his lap, his hair tousled, his eyes dark. The faint bloodstains remained on his cheek. He nodded silently.

Wheeler sighed. "I told you," he said, a phone ringing elsewhere in the building. "You should've left it to the professionals."

Henry chuckled dryly. "It doesn't matter," he said. "You wouldn't have been able to stop him."

"Look, I don't know what happened down there," Wheeler said after a moment, choosing his words carefully. "You're getting off for now—but consider this a warning. Keep out of it. The next time—"

"Yeah, yeah," Henry muttered. "I'll be on the other end of the handcuffs. I get it."

Wheeler sighed again and turned away, walking back to his office. Alex came out of the corridor, followed by an older man, bald, his eyes hard. Wheeler shook hands with him. "Good to see you, Adam."

"You, too," Adam Shepherd replied with a small smile. Alex mustered a smile of his own and patted Henry on the shoulder.

"You okay?"

Henry grinned hollowly. "Peachy," he said.

"I'm glad you're safe," Alex said out of earshot of his father and Wheeler. "I—"

"Don't worry about it, Alex," Henry told him, looking down at his feet. "Thanks, though." His tone went soft. "Thanks for helping."

Alex hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah."

Adam looked over his son's shoulder at Henry. "Henry," he said. "Do you need a ride?"

The boy shook his head. "No, thanks. Will—my father should be here soon enough."

"Alright." Adam nudged his son towards the door, and, wordlessly, the two left. Alex glanced back at his friend and was gone.

Henry stared after them for a long while before looking down at the floor. He sat there amidst the noise of the police station and buried his head in his hands.

When Will Townshend arrived and picked up his son, Henry refused to speak. He simply lay back against the headrest of the seat and closed his eyes.

---

It was the singsong of birds outside that awoke him. His eyes fluttered open, slowly taking in the bedroom. It was bathed softly in gentle morning sunshine, white and beautiful. The light reflected off the frames adorning the room, off the scenic lakes and butterflies flying over trees. The fan spun slowly, making rounds.

He started to rise, stopping. His sheets were wet with blood; sitting on the side was Cynthia, her hair down, strained, her wounds open and bleeding. She looked away from him, keeping her gaze on the photographs.

"Velasquez?" he uttered sleepily. He reached out for her; she took his hand.

"Henry," she said gently, looking at him, the numbers on her breast red and vibrant. "You should go back to sleep now."

"No," he said. "No—I can—I can make up for what happened." He sat up, intertwining his fingers with her. "Let me fix it. I can fix it—_please_. Cynthia." He tightened his grip, squeezing. "_Please_."

"Henry," she said again, caressing his cheek. She wiped away a tear with her thumb. "Look at me. Look at me, Henry." Her hand traced down to his chin, and she tilted his head towards her. He was crying fully now, the tears running.

"Henry. It's okay." She pulled him close, cradling his head against her bosom. "It's okay. Everything will be all right."

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm sorry."

She stroked his hair tenderly, hushing him. "It's okay—it's all right." She let out a tired sigh. "Would you like me to stay with you? For a little while?"

He nodded, crying.

---

When he woke up that morning, his head against the pillow, he was alone.

---

The hospital room was sparse, the furniture neatly arranged, the small coffee table absent of any magazines or newspapers. The television in the corner was off, dark and silent. The only noise came from the monitors surrounding the old man. A beep sounded after a long, tenuous pause, and then another—his heartbeat.

He lay in the bed, each arm a host of wires. The breathing tube coiled from his nose down his wispy, gray beard. His eyes were glassy pools.

The door opened, allowing in the noise from the corridor. A woman walked in, a nurse, her pink scrubs contrasting against the sterile room. She wrinkled her nose at the odor and closed the door behind her.

"I hate that smell," she said, sighing. "Death."

She reached behind her head, fiddling with the tie-strap of her ponytail. Some carrot-colored bangs fell across her brow, and she swatted them away. She turned her attention to the man, clicking her tongue. "It's pretty dark in here. Do you mind if I let some light in?"

He said nothing; his expression remained stony.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" she said, walking around the bed and to the wall, where she raised the blinds. Hazy white light poured in, silhouetting her. "How's that? You just can't beat good old natural sunlight." She squinted out the window, frowning. "Even _if_ the sun doesn't want to show her face today."

She went back to the bed, sitting on the side. "I know you can hear me, Mr. Baldwin," she said. "You must think I'm new—that I'm green. I'll actually have you know that I've practiced. I've been there in the thick of it."

She smiled. "There were good times, I'll admit—but also bad. Really bad. Sometimes you could barely stand up at the end of a shift. You'd splash water in your face, gulp down an energy drink, but it would never help. There was always this… _weariness_ there. You could never get away from it."

Lisa Garland giggled. "You're probably asking yourself why some kid is spilling her guts to you, and, well—the reason is that you won't be alive much longer, anyway. It's either later on—or now." She flashed the man a smile, revealing a syringe. The beeps increased suddenly in ferocity.

"There's no need to be scared," Lisa said. "It should be as simple as falling asleep. And, please, I hope there are no ill feelings. Orders are orders, after all."

She patted his hand, leaning over to inject the syringe into the IV. "Michael Kaufmann sends his regards. May God absolve you of your sins." She broke the IV, the needle of the syringe sliding through. The beeping increased tenfold; she hushed with her lips.

"Quiet—quiet. Your daughter will be waiting for you, Ernest." She pumped the last of the liquid out, and the tube filled with it. The beeping became irregular, broken, and then gradually faded out. The entire time, Ernest Baldwin's face hardly flinched. Lisa removed the syringe, patting his hand again.

She undid the tie-strap and brought out her cell phone. She quickly dialed a number and held it to her ears.

"Michael?" she said, giggling, her voice coy and seductive. "Yes. Yes, it's done. Yes." She sighed and turned to the window and the gray day outside. "I know. Father Wolf wants me to track down the Seal of Metatron." She laughed. "I know. It should be interesting. I'll call you later." She clicked the conversation off and slipped the phone into a pocket before leaving.

---

"Okay! I'm ready!"

Eileen stepped back, twisted her arm, and sent the stick flying. It made arcs in the air, soaring high above the trees—Heather followed it, the yellow light burning before her eyes. "Heather beam!"

She shot the stick out of the air. It disintegrated into burning smolders, crumbling to the dirt.

"Want me to throw another one?" Eileen asked, hugging her jacket around her. They stood in the clearing, the trees swaying in the morning breeze around them. The sky was overcast, a blanket of clouds. Heather played with one of the antennae of her uniform.

"Nah, it's okay. I think we'll take a break for now."

Her costume vanished into petals of light, leaving her in her jacket and jeans. She sighed and fell back against a tree. "I need a breather."

"At least you're trying," Selina said, hovering in the air in front of her. "That's worth something."

"I wish it was," Heather said. "I just don't feel any better. I mean—so what if I can beat them once or twice? How can I stop it? How do I, well, _end_ it?"

"I—don't know," Selina told her despairingly. She plopped down on Heather's head, sinking into her hair. "I can't tell you why they want the seal or what they want to do with it."

"Hey!" Eileen snapped at them. "What's with all the gloomy faces? Are you just going to give up?" She walked over to Heather, shaking her head. "Listen, all you can do right now is keep going, right? If you can't go on the offensive, then you've got to steel yourself for what's to come."

"And how long is it supposed to go on like this, Eileen?" Heather asked. "I—I can't allow you or anyone else to get hurt because of me. I just can't."

"You won't," Eileen said, kneeling down before her friend. "So, come on. Let's go get something to eat."

"Happy Breakfast?"

"You bet your ass."

---

"You should have invited Claudia," Heather said, sitting down in the booth with her Styrofoam platter of pancakes. The Happy Burger was virtually yellow everywhere, pictures of hamburgers with cartoony eyes and smiles lining the walls. Eileen sat down, pulling out a French toast stick.

"Are you crazy?" she queried. "Big Bad Wolf won't let her come—at least not this early. Maybe she'll go to the mall later. You down with that, nigga?"

"Yeah, sure," Heather, forking some pancake into her mouth. "I honestly don't think Mr. Wolf is that bad."

"Believe it, bitch. Really."

Heather giggled, sighing. She shook her orange juice. "You know, we haven't really hung out like this in a while. It's nice."

"Yeah," Eileen agreed, smiling. "You're my best friend, Heather," she said. "Thanks—for everything. You're always there to help me—with my homework, boy trouble—" She paused, shrugged. "So, I mean, I should be there to help you. I'll be your sidekick, or something. I'll make sure you come out of this." She laughed shortly. "You hear me, vag?"

Heather nodded. "Yeah. I should really be the one thanking you, Eileen."

"Don't mention it. But give me some of that pancake."

---

"He hasn't come out of his room all day," Vicky said, leaning against the kitchen sink. James stood in the hallway, his hands in his pockets. "You're his best friend, James. He'll listen to you."

"I'll, uh—I'll try to talk to him," James said.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly. "What happened last night? Why was he arrested? James, if you know—"

"I don't," he said, cutting her off. "But—don't worry. Henry's strong. Just give him some time."

He offered her a smile and treaded down the corridor to Henry's room. He contemplated knocking but ultimately simply went inside, finding Henry in the gray light, sitting on the side of his bed.

"Henry?"

The boy looked up, his eyes dark and sleepless. "Hey, James," he said. "You missed some fun last night." Scattered before him on the floor were the red pages, all spaced apart from each other. Words were underlined here and there, numbers circled.

"Henry, that's enough!" James said. He snatched up the pages and dumped them into the trash bin beside the computer desk. "You've got to stop this! You nearly died yesterday! You and Alex almost died!"

Henry shook his head, his expression calm, composed. "He wasn't after us," he told him. "He wanted Cynthia. We were just in the way. There was no reason for him to kill us."

James let out a long, tired sigh, sitting down across from his friend on the computer chair. "What happened down there, Henry? What happened to Cynthia?"

"He killed her," Henry answered bluntly. "Walter Sullivan, James—it was him. Fucking back from the grave—I don't know. But it was him. I'd stake my fucking life on it."

"Walter Sullivan?" James shook his head. "How—how is that possible?"

"I don't know." Henry chuckled. "Like I told you, you've got to forget everything you thought you knew. Somehow, someway—he's connected to Princess Heart. He's connected to Mason. I don't know how or why, but that—it doesn't even matter anymore."

"Henry—"

"Schreiber was fifteen," Henry said. "Velasquez—Velasquez was sixteen." He looked up at James, a strange sort of resolve overtaking him. "Schreiber had up to twenty-one on that list. Don't you see? Sullivan has killed sixteen so far. He needs five more."

"No, Henry!" James exclaimed. "No, that's enough! Please, you have to stop this! You can't keep this up!"

"Why not?" Henry yelled at him. "People are dying, James! I can save them! I—I _have_ to!"

"Like you saved Cynthia?" James shot back. "Stop it, Henry. You'll get yourself killed if you continue like this!"

"What happens to me doesn't matter!" Henry retorted, standing. "If there's a chance—_any_ chance—that I might be able to help them—"

"What can you do, Henry?" James shouted. "According to you, Sullivan's already dead! I mean, you're not Princess Heart! You're just some kid! You'll get yourself killed!"

"It doesn't matter!" Henry replied. "It's easy for you to blow it off, James—of course it is! You don't know any of these people! Why should give you a flying fuck if they live or die? Hell, what if it was your dad? Laura? _Mary_?" He saw James sit back down, the fight draining from him. "What would you do, James, huh? Tell me! What would you do?"

"I—I don't know!" James cried. He whimpered, covering his face with a hand. "I'm scared, Henry, okay? I'm scared! Jesus, you're my _best friend_. I don't want you to die!"

Henry stopped, his breathing heavy, and sat back down onto the bed. He tried to speak but could not.

"It's always like this with you," James went on. "You go off on your own, doing whatever you want, never giving a damn what anyone else thinks or cares! Don't you realize there are people that care about you? Don't you think you should consider them?"

"That's just—that's just not good enough," Henry said. "If I have the power to help these people, then I have to try." He sighed. "I'm—I'm sorry, James. It's just a dick in the face, you know?" He managed a choppy grin.

James gazed at him, suddenly exhausted, and smiled himself. He drew a breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay, Henry. If you won't stop—then I'll just have to help you."

They laughed.

---

"Oh, damn it!" Heather cried, slamming a fist on the control panel of the game. The screen flashed, blocks shifting back and forth across her vision. "Fucking block stacker," she mumbled, fishing for another dollar from her pocket. "I'll beat you yet!"

"You try this every time we come," Eileen said, hefting a bag of shirts. "You'll never get it, bitch."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cuntarosa," Heather said, slipping the dollar in. The screen flashed again, the blocks sliding across the screen. "Take this!" she said, punching the button; the blocks stopped, and the row above them stared swinging by, faster than before.

Eileen watched her ultimately fail. "Come on, Heather," she said. "You're going to waste all of your money. And then you won't have enough to buy me more shit."

"Just one more try! One more!"

"No!"

Heather finally submitted and joined Eileen as she wandered among the crowd, slipping in and out of stores on a whim. "It's too bad Claudia couldn't come after all," Heather said, passing under some skylights.

"I told you," Eileen said, shrugging. "Mr. Wolf won't let her out."

"Maybe we should go visit her."

"And get crucified? No, thanks."

"He can't be that bad."

"Oh, I'm sure he is. Probably got a ton of skeletons in his closet."

A laugh sounded from behind them. "More than you could imagine, girls."

They spun around, coming face-to-face with Lisa across from them. She smirked, wearing jeans and a jacket. "Hey there, Princess Heart. And her sidekick."

"You," Heather murmured. "Lisa, right? You're the one who took care of Vincent."

"I remember her," Eileen remarked. "Cocky bitch."

Lisa laughed again. "I'm glad I won't have to introduce myself again. You two are sharp—well, as sharp as teenage girls can be, I guess."

"What do you want?" Heather demanded.

"Don't be dense," Lisa replied. "Obviously the seal. But I'm not as rude as Vincent—I figured I'd try to smooth things over peacefully."

Heather smirked. "Vincent tried that a couple of times, too. Didn't really work out, huh?"

"I guess not." Lisa brought out a vial and twisted off the cap. "Last chance, Heather. I'd hate to make a scene."

"Suck my dick," Heather said, waving a hand dismissively. "No one's getting hurt while I'm here."

"Me, too!" Eileen added.

"Well, you've got spunk," Lisa said. "That's got to be worth something." She held out the vial and turned it to the floor, allowing several drops to fall and burn on the tile. "Let's see how far it goes." All around her forms rose up from the darkness, decrepit, writhing nurses. Immediately screams rang out, and the crowds followed suit, running and scattering.

"You better take cover, Eileen," Heather said, glancing at her. "Things are going to get ugly." She took out the pocket mirror and swung it open. "_Heart power_!"

The pink aura surrounded her and left her as Princess Heart. "That's more like it," Lisa said, snapping her fingers. "Kill her, girls."

The nurses advanced, wielding rusted pipes. Heather smiled, the gold and silver pipes materializing in her hands. "Come on, bitches!"

She rushed to meet them, striking and blocking. Eileen hurried behind a pillar, poking her head out to watch the ensuing battle. Selina joined her.

"What are her, uh, chances?" Eileen asked.

"Pretty good, actually," Selina said. "These are low-class demons. They shouldn't be a threat."

"Well, that's good," Eileen said, watching Heather run one of the nurses through with a pipe. "Err—really good."

Heather backed up, twirling the pipes, their lengths glowing and sparkling. "Here's a new trick I learned," she said, slashing at the air; ribbons of lights struck out, cutting down the remaining nurses. Lisa smirked, the whips of light sending her hair up in the air.

"You know, I'm actually impressed," she said, giggling. "Princess Heart. I can see why Vincent would have such a hard time with you."

"Thanks," Heather said, rubbing her nose. "I try."

"Yes, you do," Lisa said, bringing out another vial. "That was the warm-up." She poured the vial out, its contents spilling out onto the tile and forming another pentacle. A hulking form began to rise up out of the blackness, bulkier. It appeared fully, a strange creature, a smaller form sticking from its back, feminine, the main form apelike and masculine, its arms degenerating into massive clubs. Wrapped around it was black leather, like bondage.

"Siam," Lisa said, stroking its snout. "Go—kill her."

The monster roared and pounced at her, flailing its arms. "Oh, fu—" Heather managed before being rammed into a store, shattering the display window and falling into a mess of mannequins and shoes. The Siam raised a club and brought it down. Heather rolled out of the way, barely dodging the blow.

"I'm getting tired of these big turds!" she cried, standing and charging it. She collided with the beast and pushed it through the railing and down to the tier below, scattering the throngs. Amidst the screams and rushing customers, Heather raised a fist, prepared to strike, but the Siam swung and knocked her clear off. She flew into a pillar.

"Oh, shit!" Eileen cried, heading for the escalators with Selina trailing behind her. Lisa leaned over the railing, watching the battle with a smile.

The Siam roared again, charging. Heather ground her teeth and spun out of the way; it crashed through the pillar, collapsing it.

"Thing just won't give up," she muttered, seeing it turn back around for yet another charge. She brought a hand to her temple, her eyes glowing. "_Heather beam_!"

The lasers pushed the Siam back, piercing its thick hide, but the attack seemed to only aggravate it further. It rushed Heather, swinging with more ferocity than before, pinning her down and thrashing her.

"This isn't good!" Selina cried as she and Eileen made it down. "She can't fight back!"

"Heather!" Eileen yelled. "Come on, man! Don't give up!"

"I'm not!" Heather shouted at her, holding her arms up to defend against the beating. "It's just taking a little longer than I expected!"

"If you just give the seal up, we can spare all of this!" Lisa called from above. "Come on, Princess Heart! Don't make this harder than it has to be!"

Eileen clenched her fists, furious, watching the monster pummel her friend relentlessly. "I can't—I can't just stand here!" she exclaimed to Selina. "I have to do something!"

The fairy buzzed about. "It's too dangerous!" she said. "It could kill you!"  
"It doesn't matter!" she retorted, suddenly running for the monster.

"No!" Selina cried.

Eileen threw herself onto the Siam, wrestling with its feminine backside. "Get off her!" she yelled. The monster roared and knocked her off, momentarily distracted; Heather seized the opportunity, her eyes glowing.

"Take this, asshole! Heather beam!" The beams shot through its head, burning holes through it. The Siam staggered back, wounded, and Heather grabbed one of its arms, coiling hers around it. "So long, King Bowser!" she exclaimed, spinning and letting it fly into a store. Rubble collapsed around it; it tried to rise, letting out a weak snarl.

The heart rod formed in Heather's hand. "Sorry," she said, raising it over her head, the gem spinning, alight. "By the power of the heart and true love's light, _I'm sending you back to hell_!"

The giant heart enveloped the Siam, obliterating it and the store in a fantastic explosion. A small object flew out of the smoke, a keychain. Heather caught it and held it to the light—two cute elephants with their backs to one another.

"That takes care of that," she said, her costume vanishing. She stuck the keychain into her pocket and turned to Eileen, who was getting to her feet, shaken but unhurt. "Eileen! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, dusting herself off. "Maybe a little bruise here and there, but it's no big deal."

Heather breathed a sigh of relief, a laugh turning their attention upward. "I guess I underestimated you a bit, too," Lisa said. She pushed some hair back. "See you later, Princess Heart." She turned away and left.

"See you later," Heather repeated lowly, joined by Eileen and Selina. Eileen giggled, looking around at the destruction.

"Is it usually like this when you're done?"

"Yep. But—I wouldn't worry about it." Heather punched Eileen on the arm. "We should get out of here; come on."

---

"What did you tell the police?" James asked back at his house in his room, him leaning against the wall, Henry sitting on the bed. Henry shook his head, examining the wall.

"I just told them what happened," he said. "Nothing more, nothing less. Not that it matters—fucking police couldn't find their way out of a paper bag. Besides, it's not like I could really tell them anything useful. The guy—was like a ghost, James."

"That's not too far off," James said, "considering he's dead."

Henry chuckled. "True enough."

There was a knock at the door. "James!" Laura called. "Supper's ready!"

"I'll be there!" he called back, hearing her shuffle off. He turned back to Henry, sighing contentedly. "I really can't complain," he said. "You're right. I—I should help. I should try."

Henry shrugged, rising. "I don't know, man. You've got something good, James—Laura, your dad. You guys are close." He laughed. "And you've got some sweet ass waiting for you to pick up. Me? None of that."

"Henry—"

"No, it's okay. I'm glad I'm welcome here." He sighed. "You guys are my family."

---

When Heather and Eileen returned to Heather's house later that evening, they found Harry standing before a mirror in the foyer, appraising his sports jacket and pair of crisp jeans. "What are you getting all dressed up for?" Heather asked curiously.

"Looking good, Mr. Mason!" Eileen commented. "Who's the lucky lady?"

Harry looked away, chuckling. "I'm going out," he told them. "That's all."

"Is it—_is_ it a date, though?" Heather inquired, her voice slow, thick. "Is it?"

"I'm just going out to see a friend," he said. "It's nothing to get excited about. Besides, you'll have the house to yourself. The leftovers are in the fridge."

"Um." Harry watched him grab his wallet and keys from the counter. Eileen clicked her tongue.

"I don't think you'd dress like that just for a 'friend,'" she said, laughing. "Have fun, Mr. Mason."

He turned back to them, a little smile on his lips. "Yeah. Hold down the fort." He left, waving.

Heather sighed, sitting on the edge of the sofa. "A date," she said slowly, as if the word were alien and unfamiliar. "This—it's never happened before. I—"

"You should be happy for him," Eileen said, touching her arm. "Let him have fun. He has enough stress dealing with you all the time. Believe me."

"Shut up," Heather said, some of her warmth returning. She stood up, removing her jacket. "How about we cozy up and watch a movie? Dad's old horror collection is gathering dust."

"Go get that shit," Eileen said. "Just like the old times, huh?"

---

Sitting in the upper tier of The Balkan, basked in the shadows, Michael Kaufmann crushed an ice cube between his teeth, his glass twisting in his hand. He was an older man, his hair streaked with gray, dressed in a black coat over a dark shirt and slacks. Down below, the club was quiet and dark, moody, the chatter low and collected. The stage glowed a deep purple, the band preparing in the back.

The door to the balcony opened and closed; a man sat in the seat beside Kaufmann, brushing his blond hair back. "Michael," he greeted curtly.

"Leonard," Kaufmann said, "it's nice to see you." He motioned with his glass. "Have a drink."

Leonard Wolf hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you."

Kaufmann grinned, raising the bottle of wine and filling a glass. He held it out to Leonard, who took it. "I heard about Vincent," Kaufmann said, watching Leonard drink. "I'm sorry we had to lose him like that."

"He was bitter," Leonard replied, lowering the glass, pursing his lips and wincing. "He went after the girl, unmindful of the consequences."

"Now you have Lisa picking up where he left off," Kaufmann said. "Despite her being my apprentice, I can't say I'm overly confident."

"I'm simply buying us time," Leonard said. "Sullivan is almost done. Once he completes the ritual, this little discrepancy we've had with Princess Heart won't matter whatsoever."

"Or so Dahlia says," Kaufmann remarked with a smirk. "Sometimes I wonder if we can really trust her decisions."

"She stays there, holed up in that rotting place," Leonard said, "but for all her eccentricities, I believe she has our best intentions in mind. I doubt she'd betray us."

"Well, we'll certainly see," Kaufmann said, sipping his drink. "For now, let's just enjoy the show."

Below them, a spotlight shone on; the curtains parted, revealing a woman. Near the back, Harry Mason found a seat, watching the stage with interest. The beat began, and the woman walked down the length of the stage, her hips swaying, red dress following her every movement. Her brown hair was long and wavy, stunning in the light. She raised the microphone, her ruby red lips opening.

"Maybe I didn't treat you—quite as good as I should have…" She sang, her voice resonating throughout the room. "And—maybe I didn't love you—quite as often as I could have…"

She paced around the stage, her voice rising. "Little things I should have said and done—I just never took the time…"

A pause. Harry leaned forward.

"You were always on my mind—" She looked out at the crowd, her eyes mystifying. "You were always on—on my mind."

She continued on, finishing the latter half of the song. A wave of applause ran through the crowd. Michelle smiled, bowing. "Thank you," she said. "Thanks."

Harry stood up from the table, clapping, and went to meet her.

**END EPISODE 07**

**As the Order's attacks increase in fierceness, Henry continues his investigation, now with the help of James—but will they manage to save Walter Sullivan's next victim? Meanwhile, as prom quickly approaches, Eileen must steel herself for the fateful night, and Harry's budding relationship with Michelle continues to blossom, much to Heather's chagrin.**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 08: The Growing Terror!"**

**You can't miss it!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	8. The Growing Terror!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 08: The Growing Terror!**

"I fucking hate Mondays," Eileen despaired at the lunch table. She zippered up her sweater. "If I had my way, I'd just slink back into bed, pull the covers up to my ears, and _sleep_."

"Too much sleep can be bad for you," Claudia said, looking up from her book. "It's really tricky. Everyone has a different amount that they need."

"Well, I happen to need a lot," Eileen replied. She leaned across the table, peeling down the skin under her eye. "Do you _see_ these dark circles? They are fucking _humongous_!"

Claudia reared back away from her, smiling. "Maybe you shouldn't stay up so late."

"I try not to," Eileen said. "But, you know, you just lose track of time."

"I always make my bed time," Claudia said.

"Because you're a perfect square, Claudia."

Heather watched her friends banter with passing interest, her spork seesawing between her fingers, her mind wandering. She found herself remembering one of the many trips to the resort town of Silent Hill with her father. They would pack up the car and head out on the road, pumping the music as high as it could go. Heather would stick her head out of the window and enjoy the rush of the wind.

"Heather?" Claudia shook her by the shoulder. "Heather, are you okay?"

She started, turning to Claudia. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" the girl asked again. "You were zoning out."

"Oh—oh, yeah. I'm fine. Don't worry."

Eileen sighed. "I bet you're still worried about Mr. Mason."

"What's she talking about?" queried Claudia."

"Nothing," Heather said curtly. "Just my dad. He, um—apparently he has a girlfriend. Well, maybe she not's really a _girlfriend_—but he seems to like her a lot."

"I don't see what the big deal is," Eileen said. "Your dad's pretty young, Heather—he's barely going to be forty. It's good that he has a woman in his life."

"I know that," Heather said lowly. "It's just—I don't know. I don't like it. We've done fine all this time, you know?"

"It must be hard for him, though" Claudia said. "You should be glad, Heather. This could be good for both of you."

"Eh." Heather shrugged. "I don't think I need a feminine presence in my life. I'm doing okay on my own."

"You're a fucking lesbian," Eileen said. "Of course you're doing fine on your own."

"I'm not a lesbian!"

"Actually, the lack of a female presence may have been what caused you to be so… tomboyish?" Claudia said.

Heather turned to her, mouth agape. "Claudia! Speak for yourself!"

"I guess you have a point," she said. "My mother died giving birth to me, so—obviously I never really knew her. Just from what my father tells me."

"You guys aren't missing much," Eileen said between her teeth, brandishing her milk. "Just a never-ending bitch-fit."

Heather stifled a giggle at the comment, her smile fading. "I remember—some things. It's hard, though—hazy. I was really young when she died. But I figure I should remember more, you know? I should. And, to make it worse, Dad hardly ever brings her up. It's like he wants to forget her."

"I doubt it," Claudia said. "He's probably hurting, too. I can see it in my father's face sometimes, as well. I can't even imagine."

"But aren't you curious?" Heather asked her. "Don't you want to know who your mother was?"

Claudia shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "What difference would it make now? She's—she's gone."

"I know," Heather said, sighing. "But it feels like there's so much that I'm missing. It feels like there's this whole picture that I can't see that's staring me right in the face."

"You guys are depressing me," Eileen groaned. "Can't you talk about something a little more cheerful?"

"Sorry," Heather said. "We'll be sure to cater to your needs from now on, Eileen."

"Why, thank you."

A hearty laugh caught them off guard suddenly; a large form appeared beside Eileen, cozying up to her. "Well, hello there, Miss Galvin," Eddie Dombrowski said, showcasing a toothy grin.

"Eddie," Eileen greeted tersely, trying to distance herself. Angela and Jasper surrounded the table.

"You don't seem too happy to see me," Eddie said, raising his brow. "I certainly hope that changes before Saturday."

"What do you want, Dombrowski?" Heather demanded. "I don't appreciate you coming here and harassing my friends."

"_Harassing_?" Eddie repeated incredulously, looking between Angela and Jasper. "She claims I'm harassing—oh, Mason, aren't you a _laugh_." He sniggered, slipping an arm around Eileen's timid shoulders. "I'm just trying to be polite to my date. What's wrong with that?"

Suddenly Heather stood up, stormed around the table, shoved Jasper out of the way, and grabbed Eddie by the collars of his shirt, hoisting him up to her level. "Listen up, Dombrowski—you made your stupid little deal with that asshole Townshend, _not_ me. I don't give a damn about you, him, or any of your friends, and I'm not afraid of breaking my _foot_ on your _ass_ if you dare touch Eileen—_okay_? Are we clear?"

Eddie only laughed. "What's so funny?" Heather spat, pushing him away. "Why are you laughing?"

"It's simple, Mason," he said, brushing himself off. "It's too late. Townshend and I made an arrangement—a formal oath. It's something that goes beyond—_words_. Right, Jasper?"

"R—right," Jasper stammered, standing.

"Exactly." Eddie shrugged. "You can disagree with it as much as you like, but it's over—settled. Though, I guess I can't expect someone like _you_ to understand such esteemed practices." He eyed her, frowning. "You're just a primitive beast."

"Go screw yourself," Heather said. "Eileen doesn't have to do anything! She's not—"

"It's okay, Heather." Eileen stepped in between her and Eddie. "It's okay."

"Eileen, no!" Heather exclaimed. "You don't have to go along with this! You don't have to give in to this—this _slob's_ demands!"

"It's—it's okay," Eileen said. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

"No!" Heather pressed, seeing Eddie's smug grin again. "You don't have to do it, Eileen. You—you don't have to protect Townshend anymore. Who cares about him? He's a loser. He—he doesn't deserve what you're doing for him!"

"It's because Eileen here has an idea of the matters at hand," Eddie said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do, Mason. Just let it be." He squeezed Eileen's shoulder. "It'll be a _fun_ prom. That's for sure. Now, we're leaving—Jasper, Angela."

He stalked off, followed by Jasper and Angela. Heather watched them go before turning to Eileen, who had sat back down, her head bowed, her hands in her lap. "Eileen," she said. "Eileen, what the hell?"

"Thanks, Heather," she said. "But it's okay. I'll do it."

"Why, though?" Heather asked. "Why are you going to do it?"

"He still—still has to find that truth he's looking for," she said at last, looking into Heather's eyes. "And I want to help him find it." She smiled softly.

Heather sat down beside her, sighing. "Oh, Eileen."

Across the table, Claudia cleared her throat. "Am I—missing something?"

---

"This should be the place," Henry said, reaching the apartment room. James came up behind from the stairs. The complex was u-shaped, with the rooms facing outward to the parking lot. Some kids threw a basketball between them down below. James looked out to the city.

"You sure this is it?"

"Yeah." Henry raised the scrap of paper where he'd scribbled down the address. "Andrew DeSalvo. Only one in the phonebook. It's got to be him—Sullivan's only killed people either here or in Silent Hill."

"Assuming it actually is Sullivan," James said.

Henry looked to him, smirking. "Well, _of course_, James—assuming it's Sullivan."

James shook his head, sighing. "Just knock, okay?"

"Your buttons are too fucking loose, man," Henry said, rapping his knuckles on the door. "Makes 'em too easy to push."

They waited, receiving no response. Henry knocked again, then again, losing his patience. "Motherfucker," he muttered. "Guy's not home."

"What are we going to do now?"

"I don't know." Henry shot glances to the left and right before trying the knob. It gave easily. "Looks like Mr. DeSalvo doesn't give two shits about home security." He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Henry!" James hissed. "Henry, what are you doing? We can't just go in!"

"Sure we can," Henry replied, wrinkling his nose at the immediate stench. "Guess he doesn't give two shits about cleaning, either."

James hesitantly went inside, closing the door behind him. He brought a hand to his nose, narrowing his eyes. The room was a cluttered mess, boxes stacked atop the furniture, clothes strewn about, coffee spilt over the cheap table in the center. It was hot and stuffy; the only fan in the room was cheap and broken, sitting unplugged near the wall. In the kitchen, dishes were piled in the sink, crumbs and pieces of food clinging to them.

"What a disaster," Henry remarked. "Someone fucking call those two British chicks."

"What are we going to find here?" James asked. "We should have just left and come back later."

"Fuck that," Henry said. "We might as well stick around and see if there's anything interesting."

He turned to the bookshelves crammed against the wall and the few actual volumes resting within. "Not too much here," he said. "Guy's a Bible-thumper."

James nudged aside a box and wandered to the kitchen. "Okay, Henry," he said, looking around at some potted plants sitting on the table. "Let's say it really is Sullivan back from the grave killing these people. Why? Why's he doing it? You're saying he has to kill twenty-one of them, but why that many? Why these specific people?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Henry replied, perusing the boxes in the living room. "It doesn't make any fucking sense."

"That's my point," James said. "What's the connection between Schreiber and this guy, for instance? What's the connection between them and Cynthia Velasquez?"

"It's something with Mason," Henry said. "Princess Heart. All these weird attacks that have been on the news—what happened at school, at the video store—it's all connected, James. Whatever's behind those things is behind this, too."

"Monsters, Princess Heart, and now undead serial killers." James exhaled, laughing. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Henry smirked, moving away from the boxes to the corridor leading to the bedroom and restroom. He paused, staring down at its length, and suddenly the shadowy hallway was filled with light. Cynthia stood at the end, surrounded by that heavenly glow, her hair down, her cheeks pale, the numbers bleeding from her breast. She looked at him, smiled, and walked into the room beyond, disappearing around the corner.

Henry put a hand against the wall, regaining his composure, staring down the dark hall. He followed it and turned into the bedroom, finding a ramshackle mattress covered with books and magazines. A simple desk rested against the wall beside it, and a beaten chair was in the corner. Henry walked inside, surveying the disorder, and then he saw Cynthia sitting on the bed, her gaze cast downward. The room was filled with gentle light from the window; strangely, he felt at ease.

"Henry," she said, looking up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to help him," he told her. "I'll make it up to you, Velasquez. I swear. I'll make it up to you."

"It's too late," she said. "I'm already dead."

"I—I know," he replied. "I'm sorry—fuck, no matter how many times I apologize, I can't make it right. That's why I'm going to do what I can to stop Sullivan. I promise."

"You'll get yourself killed, Henry."

"Maybe—but I'll bring that son of a bitch down with me."

"You shouldn't die for me," she said, smiling sadly. "You've got your whole life ahead of you."

"My life won't mean shit if I don't do this," he said. "What good is living if I don't stop this from happening? I have to try, Cynthia—I—I couldn't save you, but I can save these people!"

She looked at him and shook her head. "Look in the closet." She nodded towards it. "Maybe you'll find something."

He turned to it, but when he turned back to the bed she was gone, and the room was dark once again. Henry grimaced, screwed his eyes up, and opened the closet.

A monument stood before him, a homemade effigy composed of sticks and paper. Surrounding it were candles and more books of varying sizes. One was open, the exposed passage underlined. From the other room, Henry could hear James' voice.

"Henry, where are you? I was thinking of something else—DeSalvo was eighteen, right? Who's seventeen? Henry—"

"James, you better get a load of this shit," Henry said. James joined him in the bedroom and narrowed his eyes at the scene.

"What is all of this?"

"I don't know." Henry reached forward and took up the open book, feeling its pages crinkle beneath his fingers. "Maybe the answers are in here—"

"Who the fuck are you two?"

The boys stumbled back, Henry dropping the book. A man stood in the doorway, balding and potbellied. He dumped the groceries in his hand and stepped forward. "Who are you?" he demanded again. "Tell me right now! _Who the fuck are you_?"

"Let—let me explain!" James said, holding up his hands. "It's—it's not what it looks like! We knocked—no one answered—and the, uh—the door was open! The door was open, okay? We weren't thinking—we just walked in—we didn't know what we were doing!"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Look, are you DeSalvo?" he asked casually. "Andrew DeSalvo?"

"Yeah," the man said, swallowing, glancing between them. "Yeah, that's right. What are you doing here? What do you want? What the fuck—"

"Calm the fuck down!" Henry exclaimed. "We're not here to hurt you, for God's sake! We just wanted to ask you some questions."

"Why?" DeSalvo retorted. "You're just two kids. What do you want with me?"

"Just stay calm," James said. "We—we have reason to believe your life might be in danger."

"Danger?" he repeated. "What?"

"Does the name Walter Sullivan ring any bells?" Henry asked. DeSalvo turned to him, his eyes wide. He stepped back, mouth opening.

"Where—where did you hear that name?" he stammered. "Answer me! Where did you hear that name? Are you with them? _Are you one of them_?"

"One of who?" Henry asked back. "What are you talking about?"

"You're here to kill me, aren't you?" DeSalvo shouted. "They sent you! They sent Walter—they want you to kill me! They want you to kill me!"

"We're not here to hurt you!" James yelled. "We're—"

"You're lying!" DeSalvo screamed. "You're lying!"

"_Who_ sent us?" Henry pushed. "Who are you talking about?"

"Get out!" roared DeSalvo, moving around them to the edge of the bed. He reached behind him and brought out a revolver, thumbing it and thrusting it forward. "Get out! Get out now!"

"What the fuck?" Henry blurted, but James stood in front of him, holding out a hand.

"Okay—okay! We're leaving! We're leaving!"

"Good!" DeSalvo exclaimed, forcing them back into the living room. "Good! Get out—get the fuck out! If I ever see you again, I'll kill you! Do you hear me? I'll fucking kill you!"

"We're leaving!" James said again. "We're leaving, okay? We're leaving." He and Henry backed out of the door, all the while keeping their eyes trained on the gun in DeSalvo's hand. He quickly shut it once they were out.

"Fucking shit," Henry uttered. "Crazy fucker."

"That was—that was too close," James said, taking a breath. "He could've killed us. He could've killed us, Henry. We—we should go. Right now."

He hurried off down the stairs with Henry behind him. "Did you hear what he said, James?" he questioned. "He knew who Sullivan was! He knew Sullivan was coming for him!"

"And? Where does that get you?"

"Well, nowhere for now," Henry said, the two of them making it back down to the parking lot. "That's not the point. DeSalvo knows something! He fucking knows something!"

"If we go back in there, he'll shoot us," James said bluntly. "There's nothing more we can do here."

"Fuck!" Henry exclaimed. "We were so close to finally finding a goddamn lead! I mean, that was _it_, James—that was fucking _it_."

"I know," James said. "I know, but what do you want to do? Henry—I was trying to tell you before. DeSalvo was eighteen, right? Well, what about seventeen? According to that paper, someone's going to die before him!"

"Fuck," Henry said again, lower. He shrugged. "If only we knew what was connecting them—but there's too many blanks. Wouldn't know where to start." He sighed. "Come on. We can give it another go-over at the Happy Burger."

---

"Dad? I'm home. Eileen's with me, too. Dad?"

Heather and Eileen entered the Mason household; Chip got up from his spot and ran over to the girls, barking happily. "Hey, Chip," Heather said, petting him. "Have you seen Dad?"

"I'm right here," Harry said, descending the stairs. He gave them a wave. "I was just doing some cleaning. Hey, Eileen." He stepped down, taking a swig of the water bottle in his hand. "So, how was school? Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, everything was fine," Heather said, rubbing her eyes. "We were just stopping by before getting a bite to eat—unless there are any leftovers?"

"There's some in the fridge," Harry said. "By the way, you're going to have to fend for yourself tonight. I'm meeting Michelle for a coffee later on."

"Second base?" Eileen asked, her eyes slits.

Harry chuckled. "Not quite even first. I'm taking it slow." He looked to Heather. "If you don't feel comfortable, though—"

"No, it's fine," Heather said, forcing a smile. "Go have fun. I'll get something here."

"If only I were older," Eileen said, "it'd be me going after you, Mr. Mason."

"I appreciate that, Eileen," Harry said. "But I'm afraid I'm not too much of a catch." He laughed, gesturing back up the stairs. "Well, I better get back to it. Are you two doing anything right now?"

"We were planning on just chilling out here," Heather said. "We'll be in my room. Come on, Eileen."

They passed by Harry and went up the stairs. He turned, watching them go, and sighed.

Heather slammed her door shut once inside and immediately threw herself facedown onto the bed. Eileen sat down beside her and rubbed her back. "Aww, it's okay, poor baby. Daddy still loves you."

"I don't understand what's so devastating," Selina said, emerging from Heather's pocket.

"I don't think a fairy would understand," Eileen said, holding out her palm for Selina to sit upon. "Teenage girls are the most complicated beings in the universe—but we're also the most powerful." She clenched her other fist. "We don't need some unearthly protrusion to feel good about ourselves."

"We just need it inside of ourselves," Heather said, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I just don't like it. Michelle. She sounds like a whore."

"You're just jealous," Eileen said. "You don't like the idea of sharing your dad. That's all it is."

"Maybe." Heather sighed. "I wish my mom—I wish she was still here. If she hadn't died—"

"You don't know how things would be," Selina suddenly said. "You shouldn't treat death so lightly, Princess. You should be grateful for how things are now."

"I _am_ grateful," she said, sitting up. "But it's just—things were fine the way they were before. They were perfect before this Michelle comes into the picture—perfect before I ended up in this stupid mess." She fished out the pocket mirror. "Why did everything have to become so screwed up?"

The fairy said nothing, hanging her head. Eileen looked away. "At least we're still alive," she said. "I mean—did you hear what happened to Cynthia Velasquez over the weekend? I was surprised they didn't really say anything at school."

"Well, I guess being alive is something," Heather said. "Who knows when that Lisa will come after me again. I wonder if she'll pour that monster juice on herself—become a giant, fat clitoris, or something."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Eileen, the only clit I want to toy with is yours."

"I'm honored. Now are we going to watch some TV, or what?"

---

"We should, uh, go over everything we know," James said, sitting down at the table and smoothing out a napkin over his lap. Henry sat down with their tray and snatched off his hamburger and fries. They were alone in the Happy Burger; outside, the day was winding down.

"What's with the sudden interest?" Henry asked, unfolding the paper wrapping and squeezing out some packets of ketchup on the side. "Just the other day you were telling me to quit."

"I told you, Henry—I'm helping you." James took his burger, studying it, uninterested. "This means a lot to you. It's the least I can do." He smiled weakly. "And, to be honest, I—I do want to know. Everything that's happening—I want to know why."

Henry nodded, dipping a couple of fries in the ketchup. "Okay," he said, munching on them. "Things could get ugly. We could die, just like you said."

"I know. I've made my decision."

Henry nodded again, holding his hamburger up to his mouth for a bite. "Alright, so"—he bit into it, savoring the taste, and then dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin—"what we know is—"

He stopped, meticulously chewing, passing the food from one cheek to the other, back and forth. "There's no—there's no fucking tomato."

"What?"

"There's no fucking tomato!"

Henry stood up and angrily faced the counter. "Hey, excuse me. Excuse me!" He walked up and slammed his hands down onto the surface. "_Excuse me_."

"Yes, sir," said the cashier, tilting his cap up so that he could scratch the back of his head. "How can I help you?"

"Why isn't there any goddamn tomato in my Happy Special?"

The cashier pointed to a sign near the register. Henry looked over at it. "'Due to the recent freeze in Florida, tomatoes will only be served by request. We are sorry for the inconvenience.'" He looked to the cashier, his brow furrowed. "What the fuck, man? Is this a joke?"

"Sir," the cashier said, "there's nothing I can do. We have a shortage of tomatoes."

"_Bull_shit," Henry said. "I bet you have them back there, stored up. I demand to have one right now."

"You—_want a tomato_?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Sir, I told you—there's a shortage of tomatoes."

"I'm the only person in here asking for one. Go get it."

"Sir—"

"The customer's always right, goddamn it. Go get my fucking tomato."

The cashier sighed, turned around, and headed for the back. James sent Henry a quizzical glance, and Henry rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later he sat back down with a small play of tomato slices. "Jesus, man—what a pain in the ass."

"What was the problem?"

"Freeze in Florida. Like anyone gives a shit about Florida."

James shook his head, sipping his soda. "Okay. Anyway, where were we?"

"Twenty-one victims," Henry said. "Sixteen dead. Five left. Don't who the last three are."

"Or who number seventeen is." James leaned forward. "After looking up the victims, we found out that they were all killed either here or in Silent Hill, right?"

"One was killed in Mexico," Henry said. "Fucking Mexico."

"So it's not necessarily the location that connects them."

"Well, I wouldn't say that. The guy was _from_ Silent Hill." He stuck a couple of tomato slices into his burger and took a bite. "You want some of this shit?"

"No, I'm okay," James replied. "So, they were all living or from around here—but what else?"

"That's the thing," Henry said, swallowing. "It's like you said, James—there's no fucking thing connecting them, but they're not random. It's like—" He paused, thinking.

"What is it?"

"Maybe they aren't connected—but there's something unique to them."

James popped a fry into his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it." Henry sat forward, gesturing with two fries. "These people aren't related, but Sullivan's not just killing any random twenty-one people. There has to be something about each one that makes them stand out."

"Like—like Tarot!" James said, snapping his fingers. "That's it! Tarot, Henry!"

"The fuck?"

"Um—Tarot. There are twenty-one—well, twenty-two—major Arcana, but they're numbered from zero to twenty-one. Sullivan's killing twenty-one people."

"How do you know about this shit?"

"Err." James chuckled. "You know, I used to play trading cards."

"Oh, shit," Henry said, biting down on the straw of his soda. "I remember that phase. I thought you were a goner, man. I was getting an intervention ready."

"Yeah, well, every Arcana represents something. The first is The Fool, the second The Magician, and so on, so forth, until the last one, number twenty-one, The World."

"The World," Henry said quietly.

"Yeah. So, what's to say the victims don't each represent something? Maybe not necessarily the Arcana, but something else? Some sort of themes?"

Henry sighed. "But we don't know what these fucking themes are! We're still not any closer to finding out who the next ones are!"

James shrugged. "Well, look—I can't think of anything else. Maybe we're missing something—something Schreiber knew."

"He probably did know," Henry said. "Then Sullivan killed him. But _what_? What's it all for, James? What's he going to accomplish by killing these people?"

James gave no response, looking off. "I—I don't know," he said. "In, um, Tarot—with the Arcana—The World is the last one, like I told you. Basically, it means—well—self-fulfillment. Coming full circle. Transcending."

"Transcending," Henry said, "but transcending into _what_?" He looked up, eyes narrowed. "A god? Something more than human?"

"If what you said is true, and it is Sullivan," James said, "I think we're already past that."

---

"We're finally going to find that shit!" Sein Martin exclaimed happily, dragging on a cigarette. He laughed. "Oh, my God, we're so close!" He was a lanky young man, a college student, with a shock of dark hair and a host of blemishes on his face.

"Dude, this is fucking badass," Bobby Randolph said, walking beside him. The night air was damp and heavy with pollen; the path was wet and muddy from the rain. He was heavier, bundled up in a jacket and hat. Sein passed the cigarette to him, and he enjoyed a nice, long drag. "Can you believe it? We're finally going to hit Wish House, man! Isn't that crazy? Jasper?"

Behind them, Jasper Gein looked up, dragged out of his thoughts. "Oh, yeah—yeah," he said. "Cr—crazy."

Sein doubled back and placed an arm around Jasper's shoulders. "Listen, Jasp—I didn't have to bring you along, okay? This pot is _not_ free, you know." He laughed, coughing. "I'd hate to get busted with your minor ass, but I figure, hey, since we're such good buddies, you'd come along and have some fun. I mean, can't you feel it in the air? The shit is going _down_! The Order is waiting for us just beyond those gates!"

"Don't talk so loud," Bobby said, looking around at the forest surrounding them. The trees stretched on, imposing. Some crickets chirped beyond. "Who knows what's out here."

"There's nothing fucking out here," Sein said. "The place is abandoned, anyway—Wish House. They took all those kids out years ago, man."

"Some pretty fucked up stuff they were doing to them, though," Bobby said. "Brainwashing and shit." He stopped, wincing. "Oh, shit, man—I have to take a leak."

"What?' Sein sighed loudly. "Hurry up—in the trees over there." He pointed off. "Don't take too long."

"Yeah, man." Bobby ambled off into the mass of wood and bark, leaving the other two by themselves. Jasper looked to Sein.

"Is—is—is it a—a—good idea to let him go off like that?"

"Well, I'm not going to hold his hand," Sein said, dragging. "Relax, Jasp. Nothing to worry about." He motioned off into the distance. "We're almost there. We'll get to see fucking Wish House up close and personal soon enough."

"Yeah," Jasper said, nodding. "It's—it's—it's pretty cool."

"Yeah." Sein dragged again and then held out the cigarette to Jasper. "Want some?"

"Uh—no—no, thanks."

Sein simply shrugged and continued to smoke. They waited like that for several minutes, standing around in the darkness of the night. Hardly any stars twinkled in the sky.

"What the hell's taking him so long?" Sein wondered aloud, irritated. "I thought he was just taking a piss, not a dump."

"Maybe—maybe—maybe we should go check on him."

"I'll go," Sein said. "Just stay put." He walked off into the forest, still dragging, and Jasper sighed and took a seat on a stump. For a while there was no noise, no ambience—only his breathing. He checked his watch absently, hoping for Sein and Bobby to emerge, safe and sound—

A scream, followed by another. Jasper looked up, alert, hearing Sein scream, a horrifying, bloodcurdling sound. Then it was over. Silence resumed. Jasper stood there, still, his heart beating in his chest. He waited, straining his ears—and then a form appeared from the forest.

It was a man, tall, covered in darkness. He was wearing a coat; his long, dirty hair obscured his face. Jasper saw that his hands were swathed in blood.

He ran.

---

Jasper awoke, drenched in sweat, clutching his sheets. For a few, panic-filled moments, he looked around his darkening, cluttered room. The computer screen was on, displaying an oceanic screensaver. Posters covered the walls, ranging from bands to comic book characters. He sat up, worse off from the nap than better.

The house was empty; his parents were off on a trip out of town. He wandered into the kitchen, peeked into the refrigerator, and found nothing. He stepped back, sighing, and looked around—before something caught his eye. He turned to the oven, surprised to see all the dials turned.

"What—what—what—"

Suddenly he was slammed down onto the counter, his teeth shattering. The hand pulled him back up, his mouth a bloody pool, and then threw him to the floor. Jasper looked up, dazed, and uttered a frightened gasp. The man from his dream—the man who killed Sein and Martin.

"It's—it's—it's you—"

"Source," the hooded man said. Jasper tried to crawl away, but it was to no avail. The man dragged him up, opened the oven, and threw in a lit match.

---

"You made it," Michelle said, smiling as Harry approached her table.

"Yeah," he said, looking around at the café. "This place is nice. Good choice."

"Thank you." She giggled. "I didn't really have a major date in mind. I just wanted to talk."

"That's no problem," Harry told her. "I actually prefer that, I think. You haven't ordered anything?"

She shook her head and touched his arm. "You know, I really like you, Harry. You're a sweet guy—a good guy."

He shrugged. "I don't know if I'm worthy of that. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of."

"Well, so have I." She smiled. "What's in the past is in the past. And, you know, I'm willing to make this work. I want to get to know you better."

"I'd like that," he said. "I want to make it work, too—but I don't think my daughter is very appreciative."

"She must think I'm trying to replace her mother," Michelle said.

"No, you're not," Harry responded quietly. "That was a long time ago—a very long time ago. I think I can let that go, you know? She has to do it, too." His eyes brightened with an idea. "Why don't you come over? We can have dinner together—all three of us. I can get you and her formally acquainted."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Michelle said. "Are you sure she won't mind?"

Harry shook his head. "She can be a bit rough around the edges, but I think you'll be okay."

---

"Here it is!" Heather exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out a dusty, bulky photograph frame. Eileen stood behind her, with Selina floating near her head. Heather blew off the dust and drew a breath.

They were beside Harry's bed, surrounding a box of old items and mementos. Heather smiled. "This is her," she said. "This is my mother."

"Wow," Eileen murmured, kneeling down beside her. "She's beautiful, Heather." She pointed to the pendant hanging around Heather's neck. "Isn't that the same picture you have in there?"

"Yeah," she said. "According to my dad, she had it made for me when I was just a baby."

Selina buzzed, hovering closer to the frame. "She—she looks like our queen," she said.

"The Fairy Queen," Heather said, tracing her mother's face with a finger. "I don't know about that, but—but I wish I could've known her. She might have had some of the answers I'm looking for."

"Hey," Eileen said, punching her playfully. "Chin up. At least you've got all of us."

"Yeah," Heather said, smiling. "Yeah, you're right."

---

"Father?" Slowly Claudia opened the door to Leonard's study. It was dark, the only illumination from a lamp on the desk. Paintings adorned the walls, and a nice, foreign rug was draped across the floor. "Father, I hope I'm not, um, interrupting."

Leonard looked up from some paperwork at his desk, mouth a grim line. "Yes? What is it?"

"Well." Claudia stood before him in the center of the room, head bowed, thumbs twiddling. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about Mother. If it's all right, of course."

"Did something happen, Claudia?" he asked. "Is that why you're asking?"

"No," she said quickly, "no, I just—I just want to hear about her." She looked at him longingly.

Leonard was silent for a moment, considering her request, and finally nodded. "Alright," he said. A small smile touched his lips. "Have a seat. What would you like to discuss about her?"

"Nothing in particular," Claudia said, sitting down. "I just want to hear you talk about her. Whatever you want to say."

**END EPISODE 08**

**The countdown to prom begins! With only a few days until the fateful night, Heather tries to help Eileen work through her inevitable date with Eddie, but can Heather pull through with her own problems to resolve? Meanwhile, Henry must contend with trying to uncover the secret behind Sullivan's murder scheme, while also having to help James with his own romantic predicament. And all the while, the Order awaits for the opportunity to strike!**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 09: Love and War!"**

**You can't miss it!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	9. Love and War!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 09: Love and War!**

Light flashed, thunder boomed. Rain pattered noisily against the window. Andrew DeSalvo knelt down before the makeshift monument in his bedroom, candles lit and surrounding him in the darkness. His head was buried in his hands, prayer beads tangled between his fingers. He muttered under his breath, quickly, harshly. The storm raged on outside, growing in intensity.

A noise came from the direction of the living room: a thud. DeSalvo looked up briefly, holding still to the air, and then returned to his praying. The storm seemed to grow more intense, the rain beating harder and the thunder booming louder. Some heavy footfalls stopped before the bedroom.

DeSalvo looked up and froze. Standing in the doorway was a large, daunting man, covered in a thick, navy blue raincoat. He was drenched, water dripping all over the carpet. He was still, his long, defined jaw just barely visible under the hood.

"It's—it's you," DeSalvo said quietly. "You've come for me at last." He began to laugh, a nervous, broken titter. "Walter Sullivan! They've sent you to kill me!"

"Watchfulness," Sullivan said, his voice hardly audible. He walked over to DeSalvo's shaking, panicked form and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

"No, please!" DeSalvo screamed. "Please, I don't want to die! Please don't kill me! Oh, God—don't kill me! _Please_!"

Sullivan dragged him to the restroom, where DeSalvo screamed again, seeing the light on and the tub filled with water. "_No_!" he roared. "_No, please_!" He struggled vainly as Sullivan forced his head under the water.

---

"Jasper was number seventeen," Henry said at the lunch table the next day. He screwed his eyes up, sighing. "I mean—mother_fucker_. Of all the people."

"There's no way we could've known," James told him from across the table. "Still—you think Sullivan—or his copycat—actually burnt down the whole house just to kill him?"

"I don't know," Henry said, looking up. "Point is, we're back to square one. Someone else is dead that we could've saved. That's all it fucking means."

"That guy, DeSalvo," James said, "he'll be the next one, right? Maybe we should go back today—"

"What does it fucking matter?" Henry despaired. "We can't move fast enough—we can't keep up with this guy. There are only four people left. If DeSalvo's the next one—who are the last three after that? Fuck, James, _who are the last three_?"

"I don't know, Henry," James snapped. "I just—there has to be a way. If Jasper was the last victim—then—maybe Eddie knows something!"

"Dombrowski?" Henry asked, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not interested in participating in any more blood oaths with that fat son of a bitch."

"Maybe you won't have to," James said. "He's a human being, even if he doesn't have any tact."

"So, what? You want to tell him everything? James, the guy's a fucking psycho. Who knows what he'll do with that type of stuff if we tell him."

James sighed, shrugging. "Well, that's my input. If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."

Henry chuckled, surprised. "What's up your ass today? You've been kind of uppity."

"Henry, please! I'm trying to help you. We're in this now, right? I mean, we're really _in_ it now. There's no going back."

"I'm just saying—when did you grow balls all of a sudden?" Henry stood up and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Listen, we'll go see Dombrowski. You're right—he might know something. And if he asks me to sign my name on the goddamn dotted line—well, I'm done with deals with the devil. How about it?"

James nodded, standing. "Alright. We should go now, while there's still time in lunch."

"Okay, then. Let's go."

---

"It's too bad Claudia couldn't come today," Eileen said, sitting on a bench outside the cafeteria. The air was warm, the sun shining high in the sky. She threw a couple of chocolate almonds into her mouth. "She really likes those mashed potatoes," she said between munches.

Heather leaned against a column, hands behind her head, blowing between her lips. She looked to her friend. "Hey, Eileen," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

Heather shrugged, facing her. "Well, you know. Prom's in a couple of days, and—I don't know—are you _okay_?"

Eileen smiled reassuringly. "Heather, I told you. I'm fine with it. It's just one date, you know? It won't hurt."

"That's not the point," Heather said with a sigh. "You don't have to do it. Don't even go—just stay home. We'll watch a movie, or something." She laughed. "Screw the prom if it's with Dumbrowski, right?"

Eileen popped some more raisins into her mouth. "It's not like I _want_ to go," she said, swallowing. "I don't, obviously. But—this is for Henry. I need to, um, defend his honor, I guess."

"Like he defended yours?" Heather queried. "Listen, Eileen, you don't owe him anything. I don't even understand what you see in him. He's a loser. He's rude and obnoxious and sexist and dirty and—"

"I get it, Heather," Eileen said. "I know he's a little rough around the edges, but I have to at least do this for him. Okay? Just let me do it, and then it'll be over. I won't bring him up ever again."

Heather sat down beside her, smoothing out a patch of Eileen's hair. "Just—you deserve better than this. It's not right that you have to play along with these boneheads."

"It's all cool, bitch," Eileen told her. "But—I do need a dress."

"What?" Heather stared at her. "Prom's, like, in two days, and you don't have a _dress_?"

"No, lol."

"Well, shit, Eileen. We're going to have to get you one."

---

"Dombrowski, open up! It's Townshend!" Henry slammed on the door with a fist repeatedly. "Dombrowski!"

"Henry, stop," James said calmly. "They won't let us in unless we give them the, uh—password?"

"Fuck the password," Henry said. "I have important business to discuss with Dombrowski, and I fucking refuse to budge until he lets me in. I—"

"Keep your damn voice down, Townshend," Eddie said, suddenly opening the door. Henry and James turned to him; he was somewhat shaggier, his baseball cap lopsided on his head, but the same leer remained. "I'll make an exception for you two this time. Come on in."

They entered, the chemistry lab dark and moody. Eddie closed the door behind them. "Where's Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum?" Henry asked, snickering. "You know, except that Tweedle-Dee's dead."

"Very funny, Townshend," Dombrowski said, turning to him. "For your information, Angela didn't come to school today. I guess she's still hung up on what happened to Jasper."

"I'm—sorry about that," James said. "It's—"

"I don't want your pity," Eddie said, cutting him off. He laughed. "Not that it matters, anyway. Jasper must have deserved it—otherwise, why would he have died? A karmic death, you know?"

"That's kind of twisted," Henry said. "So, what? We all deserve death?"

"No, not exactly," Eddie said. "It's simple, Townshend. Jasper deserved his fate—they all did. Him, that Velasquez girl, all the others—they must have led pretty terrible lives."

"How can you say that?" James asked. "These people were innocent!"

"You're not the fucking judge of good and evil," Henry said darkly. "Hell, I wonder how you'd feel if the guy came knocking on your door, decided you'd be the next one to die."

"Well, if that were the case, I say bring it on." Eddie laughed. "Divine retribution, Townshend! That's all it is. We make our lot in this world, my friends—whatever we put in, we get out. If they're dead—well, we're probably better off that way."

Henry shook his head, abhorred. "You're disgusting," he said. "Is that what you really think of Jasper? You think he's better off dead?"

"Don't fool yourself, Townshend." Eddie gestured around himself, chuckling. "You think I'm bad because I consider the facts? You're totally out of your depth. Jasper was a—good _something_—not really a friend. Did we hang out? Sure, sometimes. But it was a relationship borne out of convenience." He motioned to the two of them. "The same can be said of your friendship, probably. At the end of the day, do either of you really care about the other?"

"I think so," James said after a moment. "I mean, you're right about it being convenient—we do things to serve ourselves. But we can also go beyond that, you know? There are—better things in this world, like love, trust. I might not know how Henry really feels about me, but he's here—and that has to count for something."

"Amen, brother," Henry said, smirking. "You can try to get under our skin all you want, Dombrowski, but you'll never know what it's like to have someone you can always depend on. We're best friends—that's never going to change."

Eddie laughed slowly, shrugging. "How _admirable_!" he said. "The two heroes put their faith in something as flawed as friendship!" He shook his head. "You can think what you want. You see, I'm more interested in what you're doing here, Townshend. I thought about Jasper—about how he's another victim of that copycat killer—and it occurred to me—wasn't it _you_ who was so interested in Joseph Schreiber? And wasn't it Joseph Schreiber who was investigating Walter Sullivan?"

"What's your point, Dombrowski?"

"Oh, well, nothing in particular." Eddie chuckled. "I'm just wondering. Why are you looking into Schreiber, Townshend? What are you trying to find?"

Henry sighed. "I'll come right out and say it, then, since you're so good at putting things together—Schreiber was trying to stop Sullivan, asshole—and that's what we're trying to do, too. We're trying to save these people."

"You're—trying to save—" Eddie burst into giggles. "You're trying to stop this copycat? Oh—oh, wow! And here I thought you were—at least somewhat capable of redemption, Townshend!" He turned to James, laughing. "And you, Sunderland? You're _helping_ him? You're going along with this?"

"Eddie, please," James said. "All we want to know is if Jasper told you anything—was afraid of something—"

"Jasper's dead," Eddie said bluntly. "You can't save him anymore—not that you could have, in the first place. I don't know what game you two are playing, but I suggest you get out of it." He looked from one to the other, shaking his head. "You want to play hero? Just FYI—Sullivan killed for years. Killed _himself_. Now some copycat's on the loose, picking up where he left off. I'm supposed to believe that some teenage asshats are anything against that? Don't make me laugh."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Henry said, "but we're being serious, goddamn it. Do you know anything?"

"No—no, I don't." Eddie smiled. "And why would I tell you anything, if I did? Just leave. Get out of here." Henry and James exchanged glances, idling, and Eddie waved them off. "Get out of here! I already told you."

"Alright, alright," Henry said. "Don't get your fucking panties into a bunch. We're leaving. Come on, James." They turned and walked out, Eddie watching them silently.

Once outside, the door closed, Henry let out a short chuckle. "You know, he's right," he said. "This is too dangerous."

"I've been telling you that since the beginning," James said with a halfhearted laugh. "We really are out of our depth."

"Yeah." Suddenly Henry's expression softened; his eyes became gentle. "That's why I have to do this alone," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I have to do it alone, James." He turned to him, smiling. "You're my best friend, James—I can admit that proudly. We could die. I couldn't save Velasquez—Alex almost bit it, too. I don't want that to happen to you. You never wanted this. You don't need to have it."

He sighed. "So, please—let me do it on my own."

"Henry, come on." James shook his head. "I told you I was going to help you—I told you that you didn't have to do it on your own! Let me help you! You don't have to—"

"I do, James," Henry said. "I do. Thanks—thanks a lot—but I have to do the rest on my own. If you die—I couldn't live with myself. Not you."

"Henry—" But suddenly Henry was embracing him.

"No one gives a shit about me," Henry said, patting him on the back. "But there are people who give a shit about _you_, James, so I can't let you do this."

"Why are you so stubborn?" James asked, Henry pulling away. "I give a shit about you; Alex gives a shit about you—"

"That's not my point," Henry said, smiling. "I can die. That's okay. But you—you've got stuff to live for. So you should start living. You should find Mary—ask her to go to the prom with you. You shouldn't worry about all this crazy shit. It's not worth it."

He turned away, preparing to leave, but James called after him. "But why does it have to be you?" he asked. "Why do you have to be the one do this?"

Henry stopped. "Because—because I looked into that bastard's eyes, James." He looked back at him. "Because he'll kill me, too."

---

James wandered into the library after school, glancing around at the few wooden shelves and the carpet under his feet. Some art projects were on display on the front desk—miniature houses and crafts. He studied them with mild interest. When he turned towards the tables, he stopped.

Sitting at one near the back of the room, beside a window, was Mary, her hair down, her attention kept by the papers scattered before her. She was sitting alone, in her own world, separate from the other students who were joking around at another table. James approached her.

"Hey, Mary," he said, and she looked up at him. Her eyes lit up.

"James," she said. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah." He motioned towards a chair. "Is it okay for me to sit down?"

"Of course," she replied, giggling. "I'm just doing some homework. I've been absent a lot, so—it's starting to pile up." She tried a weak smile. "It's pretty crazy."

"Doesn't Maria help you?" he asked, and her smile dropped.

"Maria? No—she couldn't care less about school." She shook her head. "Sometimes I think it's stupid how our parents named us like that. Mary—Maria. We couldn't be any more different."

"It's true," James said, chuckling. "I hadn't noticed that. Mary and Maria."

"Yeah. It's cute, isn't it? Actually, she's stayed home lately, too. After her friend was found—well, you know what happened. I think it hit her pretty hard."

"Yeah." James nodded, watching her continue to work. He smiled at her brow furrowing, at the way she seesawed her pencil. "Mary." he said.

"Yeah?"

"Would you go to the prom with me?"

She looked up at him. "Prom?" she asked. She broke out, beaming. "I—yeah! Yeah, of course I would go with you."

James found himself beaming, as well. "Really?"

"Yeah!" She laughed. "I—I'll have to get a dress, and—" She stopped, her smile faltering. James leaned forward.

"What's—what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, mustering another smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking—it's nothing. I just, uh—I just wasn't expecting to go, you know?"

"Well, you are now," he said. "We can go with Alex and Elle."

"Yeah." She giggled. "Yeah, I—thanks, James."

"Thanks?"

"Yeah, just—thanks."

---

"Alright, I'm ready!"

Heather grinned outside the dressing room, hands on hips. "Well, come on out, bitch!"

Hesitantly Eileen poked her head out before finally stepping into view. Heather squealed with delight upon seeing the sleeveless violet gown. "Oh my God, Eileen!" she exclaimed, eyes watering. "Jesus, I can still remember the days when you were hardly any taller than my knee."

"Shut up," Eileen said, smiling. "Does it look good? It's a little tight."

"Oh, nonsense." Heather circled her, eyeing the dress and its form. "It fits you perfectly. Emphasizes your ass."

"That's good, right?"

"Well, maybe not with Dumbrowski around—but otherwise, yeah." Heather drew a breath. "You look good, Eileen. If I was a lesbian, I wouldn't mind eating you out."

Eileen giggled. "You're such a slut, Heather."

"Yeah. So, is it a keeper?"

Eileen looked about herself, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so. Let me change and then we can go."

"Sure." As Eileen returned to the dressing room, Heather roamed away to a nearby rack of dresses and blouses. The store was crowded with other girls and women; overhead some soft lounge music played. She was in the midst of admiring a nice, velvet red dress when a laugh caught her attention.

"Hey there, Princess Heart."

Heather turned round to the voice, her eyes widening. "Lisa?"

"I'm glad you remember," Lisa said, smirking. She saw Heather instinctively reach for the pocket mirror and held up a hand. "Hold your horses there, cowgirl. I'm not here to fight."

"Then why are you here at all?" Heather clenched her fists. "Aren't you after that seal thing?"

"Yes—yes, we are." She motioned to Heather's pocket. "It's right there, as a matter of fact. All I'd have to do is take it." She laughed upon witnessing Heather back away. "Chill out—I'm just stating the obvious. When all's said and done, you're really nothing without it. You're just any other girl without that little trinket."

"Even without this little trinket, I could still probably kick all your asses."

Lisa laughed. "I don't doubt it, Princess Heart. You've got fire—spunk. But if that fire gets too hot, you'll get burnt."

Heather narrowed her eyes at the woman. "What are you trying to say?"

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just here to give you a fair warning of things to come." She looked around at the dresses, sighing. "You know, I remember my prom. Midwich High School—gosh, it's been forever. Have you ever been to Silent Hill, Princess?"

"Silent Hill?" Heather cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't that the resort town?"

"Yeah," Lisa said. "I grew up there. Quaint little place—until the Order dug its nails in." She shrugged. "Well, it's not really important. My point is, we have other alternatives if we can't get our hands on that seal of yours."

Suddenly, Selina flew up from Heather's pocket, buzzing. "What do you want with it?" she demanded. "What do you want with the seal? With the other fairies?"

"The fairies are the guardians of the seal," Lisa said. "They live under our noses—in their own little world. We don't particularly need them for anything—they just got in the way." She waved a hand at the fairy. "Don't worry your little head, sprite. We'll release them eventually."

"You didn't answer the question," Heather said. "What do you need this thing for?"

Lisa tapped her chin, thinking. "You know, it _is_ a really good question. To be honest with you, I'm not totally sure."

Heather let out a short chuckle. "You don't even know why you're trying to get it? You're just the same as Vincent. Who's in charge of you guys? Who's pulling the strings?"

"I don't know exactly why we need it," Lisa said, "but I am aware that it's an object of great power. With that power, the Order will be the ones to bring about a change in humanity. We can do anything once all the pieces of the Seal of Metatron are reunited."

"Well, tough luck," Heather said. "I won't let you have it. You guys can't just whatever you want."

"Fair enough," Lisa replied. "Just keep what I said in mind. Even without confronting you directly, there are other ways to get what we need."

"Heather, who are you talking to?" Eileen asked from the dressing room as she rounded the corner, dress slung over her arm. She tightened up upon seeing Lisa. "It's you!"

"Oh, good, the sidekick," Lisa said, smiling. "Well, I already said what I had to say. You two can continue—doing whatever it is you're doing." She once again looked around at the dresses, somewhat wistful. "You should enjoy it while you can."

She walked out, and Eileen turned to Heather, confused. "What did she want?" she asked. "Is she going to do something?"

"No, I don't think so," Heather said. She watched the woman through the window. "I think she just—wanted to warn me."

---

"DeSalvo's dead."

Henry lay on his bed, arm over his forehead, staring up at the ceiling fan making its rounds. Once more, soft, white light seeped in through the windows, giving the room a heavenly glow. His sheets were wet with blood, and Cynthia was beside him, her arm draped over his chest. Her hair was down, matted to her forehead; the numbers on her breast seemed alight in the haze.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I just do," she said. "He drowned. He was—he was scared. Just like me." She gripped his shirt, her tanned fingers caked with red. "I was so terrified. I'd never been so scared in my life."

Henry said nothing, instead keeping his eyes on the fan, following its circles. "I said I would make it up to you—but I don't think I can. Jasper, DeSalvo—who's next? Who's Sullivan going after now?"

"Why did you send your friend away?" she asked. "He wanted to help you."

"I can't let James get hurt," Henry said. "I don't want anymore people to die."

"So you don't have to feel guilty?"

"No, I—" He stopped short, sighing. "Maybe. Maybe."

"It's okay to feel that way."

"No—no, it's not. Why did I get into this bullshit in the first place? What the fuck was I looking for, Velasquez?"

"You should go back," she said, closing her eyes. "To that room."

"Schreiber had to know more," he said. "There's something else. There _has_ to be."

"Just be careful. You won't be able to save anyone if you're dead."

"I know." He sat up, sighing. "I won't let you down, Velasquez. I promise." But when he turned to her, she was gone, and his bed was dry and clean, and the room was dark.

---

"I'm glad you could come," Harry said, glancing over at Michelle as she busily cut up tomatoes at the other side of the kitchen.

"Of course," she said, smiling. "I just hope I don't make too big of a mess here. God only knows I'm not the tidiest person."

"Make as big a mess you want," Harry said with a laugh. "The only way I get to keep busy is when I'm cleaning."

Michelle laughed, her eyes wandering the countertop until they settled on a framed photograph in the corner. "Is that—your wife?" she inquired, and Harry turned to the photograph, his mouth a grim line.

"Yes," he said thickly after a moment. "I'm sorry. I hope it doesn't bother you. Heather—she likes it up."

"Oh—oh, no, it's all right," Michelle said, mustering a smile. "It's okay. She's very beautiful."

"_Was_ very beautiful," Harry said lowly. "Just—forget about it. This is supposed to be a good night, isn't it? I wouldn't want you to have wasted your night over a widow's past."

"You're right," she said, returning to the tomatoes. "I guess I could always read one of your books, right?"

"I don't recommend that," Harry replied with a chuckle. "I'm afraid none of them are ever as good once they're done. You lose some of the mystique—and you just never get it back."

"Spoken like a true author," she said.

He shook his head, occupying himself with churning some salsa. "It's just a little wisdom I've picked up over the years. Nothing more, nothing less."

As their small talk continued, Chip got up, yelping happily. The door shut, and Heather appeared from the foyer. "Dad, I'm ho—" She stopped, surprised by the sight of Michelle. "Oh," she said. "You must be the girlfriend."

"And you must be the daughter," Michelle said with a smile. "I'm Michelle. I've heard a lot about you from your dad." She held out her hand, but Heather merely looked at it, her eyes moving from Harry back to the hand before her.

"I'm sure you have," Heather said, glancing up at her. "Um—what are you doing here?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Michelle's going to be having dinner with us tonight," he said. "I invited her the other day. I was hoping we could all break the ice—get to know each other."

"Yeah," Michelle said. "I wasn't sure if—if it was such a good idea—but your dad insisted." She gestured back at the food in the kitchen. "I was just helping him get ready."

"Yeah, well, okay. You have fun with that." Heather passed her by, heading for the stairs. She stopped on the first steps, glancing at Harry. "Thanks a lot, Dad."

He watched her go up, and behind him Michelle sighed. "Have fun with that," she repeated, drawing a breath. "You know, Harry—maybe it really wasn't such a good idea that I came after all."

"No," Harry said quickly, turning back to her. "No, just—just let me talk to her. Don't go. Please."

She shook her head. "No, I'd better go. Thank you for inviting me, but—well, just go ahead and call me later, okay?"

"Michelle—"

But she had already left, closing the door behind her. Harry stood there, staring at the door, Chip at his feet, tail wagging.

Heather lay on her side in the darkness of her room, the closet light on, a thin ribbon of yellow streaking through the shadows. The door opened, and Harry entered. "What was that?" he demanded. "How could you be so rude?"

"Me?" Heather snapped, sitting up, scowling at him. "What the hell was she doing down there, cooking with you? Acting like she's your wife? You barely even know her! She's just some—some bimbo you met out on the street!"

Harry averted his gaze, sighing. "You don't know her, either," he said. "You have no right to say that—about her, about anyone else. I invited her here so that we could get to know each other better, so that if I see her more often, maybe—_maybe_ things could work out. I thought you'd—you'd like that."

"Well, news flash," she replied, "I don't. I don't need another mom. I never even knew my real one."

"You think this is about replacing your mother? Heather, I've gone almost thirteen years without even thinking about it. Michelle is a nice girl. She makes me feel—a little less burdened. A little less tired."

"You were fine for thirteen years, just like you said," Heather told him. "We don't need someone else! What's wrong with the way things are now? We've been perfectly fine all this time! I mean, if Mom—"

"Whoever you think your mother was—she wasn't!" Harry snapped, silencing her. The reality of his words hit him, and he rubbed his eyes. "I know it's hard. You can hardly remember her—and you have questions. There are things you want to know. But, believe me, you're better off not knowing. You're right—what we have now is something good—something safe. I just need something for myself, okay? I need something—fresh, different. I look at Michelle, and I don't have to worry about everything else—at least for a little while."

Heather grimaced and turned back onto her side. "Whatever. Do what you want."

Harry shook his head, smiling sadly. "You'll get what you want. I won't call her—I won't even think about it." He left, closing the door, and Heather remained like that in the silence. Selina emerged from her pocket.

"Don't you think you're being too harsh?"

"Shut up."

**END EPISODE 09**

**Prom is finally here! As the fateful night unfolds, Walter Sullivan's murderous rampage reaches its conclusion, but who will be left standing in its wake? And just what devious plan does the Order have schemed for the aftermath?**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 10: A Night to Remember!"**

**Get ready!**

**DISCLAIMER: "Silent Hill" and all material therein are the property of its respective copyright holders**


	10. A Night to Remember!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 10: A Night to Remember!**

"Hey, Dad, did James tell you that he's taking _Mary_ to the prom tonight?" Laura smirked maliciously over her pancakes, thin legs dangling above the floor. Frank's brow went up upon hearing the news; he turned to James, dropping another steaming pancake onto his plate, and gave him a hearty grin.

"Is that so, Jim? I was wondering when you were going to make your move!"

"Yeah," James said quietly, smiling, as he poured syrup over his breakfast. "I rented out a tuxedo the other day—I was lucky to find one."

"I think I've taught you well," Frank said, sitting down and spreading a cloth over his lap. "Your old man was pretty popular among the ladies back in the day, believe it or not."

"You've told me before," James said, chuckling.

Laura giggled amidst chewing. "James and Mary, sitting in a tree—K-I-S-S-I-N-_G_," she sang through a mouthful of mush. "First comes—"

"Stop teasing your brother," Frank said playfully. "And chew with your mouth closed."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, munching forcefully. "I'm just saying."

"It's okay," James said. "I don't mind."

"When is it, anyway?" Frank asked.

"Eight, I think. We're going to meet up with Alex and Elle and then head out there."

"And what about Henry? Who's he going with?"

"He's—not going," James said after a moment. "Henry's not too interested in that sort of thing."

Frank sipped his coffee and pursed his lips from the bitterness. "Well, that's a shame. He's a good kid."

"Henry's a douchebag," Laura remarked.

"What was that?" Frank snapped at her. "What did you say?"

"I _said_ Henry's a douchebag."

"Laura! Where did you hear that? Jim, did you tell her? Have you been cursing around her?"

"No, I haven't," James said meekly, glancing between them. "It's probably those kids at her school. When I was in elementary, there was a lot of cursing, too."

Frank turned to his daughter, wagging his finger in her face. "You know better than to use those words at home, little missy!"

"Yeah, yeah," Laura said, rolling her eyes and returning to her pancakes.

"Don't you 'yeah, yeah' me!" Frank exclaimed.

James sat silently, listening to them, his mind wandering. He thought about Mary.

Police tape lined the block, barring entrance to the side of the apartment complex where Andrew DeSalvo lived. Henry stood on the curb, regarding the apartments. The same kids were playing basketball in the square, and beyond the building, thunder rolled.

"Rain, again," Henry mumbled to himself. He looked down at the red page crushed in his fist. "Sullivan got him. James was right—we could've saved him."

"Why didn't you?" Velasquez asked, leaning against a lamppost behind him. She was bleeding out onto the sidewalk, her hair down, her wounds open.

"I can't stop Sullivan," Henry said, turning back to her. "There are three people left, and I have no idea who he's going after next."

"That's why you're going back, right?" she inquired. "Back to that apartment?"

"Room 302," he said, nodding. "There's something I'm missing—there has to be. Schreiber must have figured out how to stop that son of a bitch."

"How do you know?"

"Well, it's really just wishful thinking," he told her. "But I've got to try. If I let Sullivan get what he wants, then I'm just a fucking failure. My pride won't let me give up now."

"He'll kill you, Henry."

"Probably—but I can bring him down with me." He flashed Velasquez a wry grin. "If worst comes to worst, I'll have to spend an eternity in Hell with Jasper."

She smiled sadly, sighing. "You don't want to be here, Henry," she said, and then she was gone.

Heather stepped off the stairs into the den, slipping her jacket on. Harry, who was busy washing the dishes, glanced at her over his shoulder. "Oh, you're up. You, uh, missed breakfast."

"Yeah," she said simply, rubbing her eyes. "I slept in a little. No big deal."

"Heather—"

"I'm going to Eileen's for a bit. I'll be back later."

Quickly she walked out the door, leaving before Harry could say anything else. He watched her cross the street from the window, sighed, and continued scrubbing down the glass in his hands.

On the opposite curb, Selina emerged from Heather's pocket. "Princess," she said, flying about the girl's head, "don't you think you're being harsh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Heather curtly. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"He must be hurting—"

"You don't know what you're talking about, either," Heather snapped at her, stopping. The fairy averted her gaze, hurt, and the girl softened. "Look—I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just kind of moody right now. I might be on my period, or something."

"Period?" Selina asked. "What's that?"

"Well, y'see—" Heather shook her head and waved it off, smiling. "Eh, never mind. It's not a big deal." She turned her head to the air and wrinkled her nose. "I smell rain. We should get going."

They continued and soon arrived at Eileen's house, just barely missing the downpour as they hurried onto the porch. Heather tousled her damp hair and rang the doorbell, smiling at Eileen as she appeared in the doorway. "Hey, bitch. Mind letting us in?"

"Only if you brought the lube," Eileen said, sticking her tongue out, and stood aside so Heather and Selina could enter.

"So, why'd you want me to come?" Heather asked, darting into the kitchen and rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Hey, chill," Eileen told her, leaning against the table. "We ran out of chocolate milk."

"You're kidding me," Heather despaired.

Eileen giggled. "I don't know why you don't just buy some when you go out."

"That would violate the first rule of BFF's," Heather said, spinning around to her. "We're supposed to leech off each other, Eileen. Come on—it's basic knowledge."

"Speak for yourself," the other girl replied. "I've never leeched off you guys."

"BS! 'Mr. Mason, can I stay for dinner?' 'Mr. Mason, do you mind if I take all those cookies you baked?' 'Mr. Mason, do you mind—'"

"Okay, okay," Eileen said. "Maybe I _do_ leech a little." She plopped down into a chair and sighed. "Anyway, the reason I called you was 'cause I need you to do me a favor."

"What?"

"You have to come to the prom."

Heather glanced at Eileen, blinking, and then burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" demanded the other girl, her brow furrowed.

"Eileen—I don't even have a dress," Heather said, sitting down across from her, peeling open a yogurt. "You know I hate these things, and, besides, why ask me on the same day?"

"Well, you know—I'd just feel more comfortable," Eileen said. "It'd be nice to know you were there. And you don't _need_ a dress, you know."

"That's true." Heather slid a spoonful of key-lime mush into her mouth. "But it's too late to get a ticket," she said through the slosh.

"I bought you one," Eileen said, smiling. "I got it when I got mine."

At this, Heather slammed a fist on the table. "So that slob Dumbrowski didn't even buy you one? God, that guy is worthless."

"It's just for tonight," Eileen told her. "After that, he should leave me alone."

"Like hell he will," Heather said. "He'll just keep following you around, trying to sex you up! Slugs like that are just slimy and gross—ugh, it makes me sick. I mean, come on—you should know more than anyone what he wants! What if he tries to drug you? What if—"

"Calm down, slut," Eileen said, raising her hands. "That's why I'm asking you to go. You know, to keep an eye out."

"Oh." Heather relaxed and licked her spoon. "Well, why didn't you just tell me that before? Of course I'll go!"

Eileen laughed. "Great," she said. "Claudia should be there, too."

"I'd be surprised if Big Wolf even let her out of the house," Heather responded. "But I guess if he has to be there, she might."

Selina perched atop Heather's shoulder. "What exactly is this 'prom' everyone's been talking about?" she asked.

"It's just a big bunch of bullshit," Heather said with a smirk. "Normally, we wouldn't go—but this time, I'm on a mission."

"Yep."

Heather sunk into her chair, dragging her spoon across her lips. "But we've still got, like, twenty hours before the shit even starts. How about we go pull the covers up and snuggle?"

"Sure," Eileen said.

"My boy, you look fantastic," Frank said, admiring his son in the dull light of the kitchen. Outside, the sky had grown dark, the last slivers of sunlight receding below the horizon. James stood, appraising his tuxedo.

"You think so?" he asked. "It fits okay?"

"It fits fine!" Frank exclaimed, slapping him on the back. "You remind me of myself when I was your age—ah, I remember those days well. Would you believe that it was at my prom that I actually met your mother? We both had our own dates, but the minutes our eyes met—"

"Dad, you've already told us, like, a thousand times," Laura said from the table, gulping down her macaroni and cheese.

"Hush!" Frank lashed at her, throwing his finger in her direction. "Let me celebrate this moment with your brother! Now, as I was saying—"

There was a knock at the door, and the three Sunderlands turned to the kitchen. "Is that your friends?" asked Frank.

"Let me see," James said and opened the door, surprised to see Henry on the other side. The boy grinned, wet from the previous rain.

"Hey," he said, eyeing James' attire and the corsage. "Don't we look just look so spiffy?"

"What are you doing here, Henry?" James inquired sternly. "Is something wrong?"

"Nah," Henry said, looking past him and waving at Frank. "I just thought I'd drop by and give you my blessings. My little Jamesy's growing up, you know."

"Henry—"

Frank interrupted his son, appearing behind him. "Henry, my boy!" he exclaimed. "Have you come to see James off, too?"

"Yes, sir," Henry replied, smirking. "I can't tag along, though. I've got some stuff to take care of."

"That's too bad," Frank said. "I'm sure you would have had fun."

"I don't doubt it."

"Dad!" Laura cried from the dining table, disturbing them. Frank glanced back at her and sighed.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it," he said. "You have a good night, Henry."

He nodded. "I will, sir."

Frank returned inside, and James turned back to his friend. "So, are you going to tell me what's going on or not? Henry?"

"Nothing's going on," Henry said. "What, I can't visit my best friend?"

"Not when you don't have a reason, no."

"Harsh." Henry shrugged. "Well, okay. I'm going back to the apartment right now—see if I can find anything else."

"We turned that place inside-out," James said. "There wasn't anything in there."

"It's still worth a shot. I can't give up yet."

James narrowed his eyes. "Henry, I'll go with you—"

"No, you won't," Henry said. "You go to the dance with Mary and make a move, for a change. I'll take care of this shit on my own."

James sighed and shook his head. "If you say so. Just—be careful. I don't want to be worrying about you the whole time."

"I'll be fine." Henry drew a breath, looked James in the eyes, and suddenly embraced him. Surprised, James could say nothing as he pulled away. "Go lose that goddamn virginity while you're at it. I'll tell that asshole Braintree you said 'hi.'"

And he walked off.

"This is like waiting for your execution," Heather said, standing alongside Eileen outside the Happy Burger, where some other students were waiting in their tuxedos and dresses. Under the saturated, bright lights radiating in the night, Eileen looked stunning.

"You actually look sort of not bad," Heather said, grinning. Eileen blushed and averted her gaze.

"You think?"

"Yeah. I should have underdone it just to get back at that dickbag."

Eileen smiled softly and looked down at her purple dress beneath her jacket. "These heels suck, though," she said, frowning at them. "I'd rather wear some slippers."

"Well, tonight we'll just have to play along. No feminism tonight, no sir!"

"Yeah, I know."

After a few more minutes of chatting, a long, white limousine pulled up to the curb, flower petals flying from the wheels. "What the hell?" Heather blurted, raising her brow as the door opened and Eddie Dombrowski emerged, dressed in a similarly white tuxedo. His grimy hair was slicked back, and he flashed the girls a toothy, malicious leer.

"Eileen, my dear," he called, approaching her, "your carriage awaits."

"You're shitting me," Heather said. "Let me guess—you're the only one in there, aren't you?"

"Ah. Mason." Eddie's smirk fell. "What an unexpected surprise. Will you be joining us this fine evening?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. I'll be at the dance, though."

"Oh, is that so?" Eddie asked, chuckling. "I'm surprised a brute such as yourself would be interested in such a thing."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not," she replied. "I'm only going to make sure you keep your oozy hands off my friend."

Eddie reared back, his mouth agape. "Mason! I'm shocked! Do you really think I'd be so perverse? My intentions are pure, I assure you. And, for your information, I am not riding alone tonight—a great many of my friends are with me."

"Yeah, right," Heather remarked. "As if you have friends."

"It's a ceremonious practice you could never understand," he said, looking away from her to Eileen. "Now, milady—I can't imagine why you spend so much time with this primate."

"I'm, uh, interested in the behavior," Eileen said quietly, receiving a grim glare from Heather.

"I see, I see." Eddie smiled and produced a vibrant red rose from within his sleeve. "I decided I would opt for something a little more tasteful—and for you, of course, I'd give anything."

"Well," Eileen said, taking the flower, "it's—um—very pretty?"

"I'm glad you think so," he said, bowing. "Now, may we depart?" She nodded and he took her hand, sending chills down her spine. Heather watched with disgust as her friend was led to the limousine.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you, then, Mason," Eddie told her once they had reached the car. "It'd be too much to ask that you—oh—glamour yourself up, correct?" He laughed, shoving an uneasy Eileen inside, and then entered himself.

Selina poked her head out of Heather's pocket, gagging. "That boy stinks."

"No shit," Heather said. "Let's go."

"Well, here we are," Alex said, pulling into the driveway of Mary's house. He turned to James in the backseat. "Treat her easy, cowboy. She's my cousin."

"Of course," James said, exchanging glances with Alex and Elle, who sat in the passenger's seat. "Let me go get her."

He exited the car and trekked up the walkway to the front door, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. He quickly knocked on the door, fixing a smile, but after a protracted pause, no answer came. He knocked again, and again.

Elle and Alex looked out, concerned, but James smiled at them. "I'm sure it's okay," he mouthed to them, when suddenly the door did open, but it was Maria who greeted him, ragged and without makeup.

"Maria," James said, surprised. He tried his hardest to muster a courteous smile. "How are you?"

"Let me guess," she said quietly, "you're here to pick up Mary, right?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Is she here?"

Maria snorted. "Did you know, James, that not one person asked me to go?" she said, ignoring his query. "Not one person. None of my friends have even talked to me in the last couple of days—not since Cynthia died."

James stared at her, unmoved. "Maria—"

"It's not fair," she hissed, her voice breaking. "Why is it always her? Why does she get to have everything? I'm the one always left with nothing, you know that? Why does it have to be her?"

"Maria—"

"Why her?" she went on, tears running down her cheeks. "What does she have that I don't? Why did you look at her and not me? We're twins, James—we're goddamn _twins_. We're the same!"

James hardened, his expression dark. "Maria," he said, "where is she? Where is Mary?"

"Mary?" she said, cracking. "Mary's not here, James. It looks like you're out of luck."

"She's not here?" James dropped the corsage and took Maria by the shoulders. "Where is she, Maria? _Where is she_?"

"Just forget it," she said, pushing him away. "She's not here, and she can't go with you. And you know what? She deserves it—the bitch deserves _all_ of it! And so do you, James! For ignoring me, for shitting all over me—you're getting punished! The both of you can just fucking _die_—"

James slapped her hard across the face, driving her to her knees. Alex and Elle left the car, stunned, watching the scene in apprehension. James glared down at the broken girl, his hand balling into a fist. "I'm sorry, Maria," he said, "but you and Mary aren't the same at all. You might look the same—but you could never be anything like her." He picked up the corsage from the ground and dusted it off. "I was always nice to you—I always gave you the benefit of the doubt. But Henry's been right about you all along, and, really, I just don't care anymore. I don't even pity you."

He turned and walked off back to the car, leaving her to cry in her dishevelment. Alex confronted him, stern-faced. "James—James, what was that? Where's Mary?"

He shrugged halfheartedly. "She's not here," he said simply. "I—I honestly don't know—but she's not here."

"James—"

He gave them a weak, broken smile and climbed into the backseat.

Heather entered Ashfield High's gymnasium among the crowd, besieged by the colored lights and streamers twirling through the air, the music blasting throughout the room, and the incessant talking permeating it all. She whistled, looking around at all the decorations. Against the far wall, the DJ monitored the speaker system, spinning tracks and delivering tunes. The dance floor was crammed with students and their dates, and the bleachers were filled.

"How many tax dollars did they waste on this shindig?" she wondered aloud, laughing to herself, when a girl jumped up to her.

"Heather!" she greeted, dressed in a shimmering, frilled blue dress, her blonde hair braided beautifully. Heather furrowed her brow at the girl, unsure, and then gasped.

"_Claudia_?"

"Yes!" she laughed. "How do I look? Father let me pick out my own dress, and he even let me come with a date! Isn't it incredible?"

"Yeah," Heather said, stunned, "yeah, it is. Jesus, I almost didn't recognize you without your glasses—and your dress—and you said you came with a _date_?"

"That's right. You know Rocky Santos from biology class, right?"

"_Rocky_? Holy shit."

"It's amazing!" Claudia giggled. "What about you? Did you come with anyone?"

"No, actually," Heather replied. "I'm looking for Eileen. Have you seen her around?"

Claudia nodded and pointed off into the gym. "Yes. She was with another group, and I know they went to one of the tables."

Heather followed her finger and smiled. "Oh, okay. Thanks."

"She really did come with Eddie Dombrowski?"

"Yeah," Heather groaned. "Believe me, I tried to talk her out of it. Anyway, I better go find—"

"So, I presume this is the infamous Heather Mason?"

Both girls turned to the tall, broad-shouldered man standing beside them, wearing a beige coat and black slacks. Leonard Wolf extended his hand to the girl.

"Principal," Heather said, shaking his hand, "hello."

He smiled. "No reason to feel uncomfortable," he said. "You should be enjoying yourself. I was only curious to meet you—Claudia speaks very highly of you, after all."

Heather shrugged meekly. "Eh, well, you know, I'm not all that special."

"Oh, I very much doubt that, Ms. Mason," he said, his eyes glinting. "We're all unique in our own ways, and I'm glad my daughter was able to make such a fine friend."

"Well, I'm glad I can be there," she said. "Anyway, um, if you'll excuse me, sir, I need to go find someone."

"Ah, of course," he said, gesturing aside. "Don't let me keep you." She smiled a final time and headed off in search of Eileen, while Leonard turned back to his daughter. "The same goes for you, Claudia. Enjoy yourself."

"Yes. Thank you, Father." She left back to the dance floor, and he watched her go, his brow cocking.

"So—that was Princess Heart? How interesting."

"Don't you have something better to do tonight?" Richard Braintree asked, fiddling with his key ring outside room 302 of South Ashfield Heights. Henry smirked arrogantly.

"Oh, you know, nothing better than getting high and having premarital sex and just ruining this fine society of ours."

Braintree glared at him, grinning, himself. "You must think you're pretty goddamn smart, don't you, kid? You think you've got it all figured out?"

Henry chuckled. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"It's that same attitude," Braintree growled. "It's that same damn attitude that just pisses me off. You think you're so funny, so smart—you think you're on top of the world. But one day it's just going to fall apart, you know that? You're going to realize what a loser you are—how much time you wasted being smart and not being _smart_."

"Listen," Henry said, "you just do what you've got to do—and I'll do what I've got to do. Okay? Just open the door."

"Listen, you piece of shit," Braintree spat at him, "no one gives _me_ orders."

"Just stop fucking around and open the door!"

"Fine!" Braintree yelled, finding the key and jamming it into the lock. "You've got ten minutes. After that, I'm kicking your ass out of here."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," Henry said. "Ten minutes. I'll be out before you know it."

"I sure hope so." Braintree opened the door and then stormed off, leaving Henry alone in the corridor. The boy quickly flicked him off before entering the room, his heart hammering in his chest, his palms suddenly sweaty.

"Fuck," he said, laughing. "I'm _nervous_. I'm fucking scared."

"There's nothing to be scared of," Velasquez said, sitting on the arm of a recliner across the room. Behind her, gentle, morning sunlight shone in through the windows.

Henry breathed in deeply, calming himself. "I know," he said, closing his eyes. "I just have to chill out—calm the fuck down." He fell onto the sofa and leaned back.

"Why'd you come here, Henry?" asked Velasquez, staring at him.

He looked to her, smiling. "I already told you. I'm going to stop Sullivan. After all, I'm the only one who can—no one else has got their shit together. Not even little Princess Heart."

"There's nothing here, Henry," she said. "There's nothing here to find."

"You're wrong." He stood up and faced her determinedly. "There _has_ to be something here. Schreiber found something—he had to. If not, then what the fuck am _I_ supposed to do?"

"You don't have to do anything," Velasquez said, smiling at him. "You're not responsible for anything."

"Oh, no?" He scowled angrily. "I'm responsible for all of this! You, Jasper, DeSalvo—I could've saved all of you! But I didn't do anything! I'm the only person left who gives a rat's ass about any of this, and—_fuck_—I won't let this happen without a fight!"

"But why are you really doing it?" She stepped up to him, her bangs matted in sweat to her forehead, the numbers carved into her breast bleeding and red. "Why are you trying to save them?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he countered. "Should I just let it all happen? Should I just let them die?"

"You want to make it right," she said, "but all you really want to do is make yourself feel better. Isn't that right?"

"No!" he yelled. "That's not true—that's _not_ fucking true! That's bullshit! I won't feel bad about myself—I _can't_—not when I've come this far! I let you die, I hurt Eileen, I bit off more than I could chew—and now—now I've got to do what I can to fix it."

"It doesn't matter if you want to or not," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "I don't want you to feel responsible, Henry. It wasn't your fault."

He gritted his teeth in frustration. "What do you want from me?" he seethed. "Do you want me to just leave? Do you want me to give up?" He slumped back into the sofa and buried his head in his hands. "_Just what the fuck am I supposed to do_? Why am I in this goddamn apartment? Tell me, Cynthia!"

She knelt down before him and caressed his cheek affectionately. "I can't," she said softly, and then the light beyond the windows grew stronger and more intense. Jasper stood behind her, his skin burnt and crackling; Andrew DeSalvo stood alongside him, his skin pale, his lips sullen and gray.

Henry stared up at them in frightened awe, trembling, and then that awe transformed into rage. "What do you want?" he shouted at them, standing. "Why are you all looking at me like that, goddamn it? What the fuck do you expect?" Furiously he threw the nearby lamp to the floor, shattering it. "You want me to make it all better? You want me to wipe your asses for you? _What the fuck_!"

He screamed and then collapsed onto the sofa, crying. He clutched at his unkempt hair, moaning loudly. "I can't do _anything_," he despaired. "I'm useless. I'm fucking useless!"

He felt Velasquez sit beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Henry," she cooed, "Henry, what do you really want? Why did you come here?"

"I—I don't know," he murmured, nestled against her bosom. "I just want things to be the way they were before. You know. I want it like it was."

"You can make it that way again, Henry," she whispered into his ear. "You can do it."

"Cynthia—"

She was gone. Jasper and DeSalvo were gone. Room 302 was dark and foreboding; candles were lit all throughout the room, all of them emanating an eerie, unearthly glow. Henry rose up from the sofa, his tears drying, to face the man standing in the center of the den. Bald, dressed in a suit, his hands clasped before him, the skin of which were covered in scribbles, the man gazed thoughtfully at the teenager. A faint smile touched his lips.

"Henry Townshend," he said. "The Receiver of Wisdom."

Henry formed a smirk of his own. "Joseph Schreiber. I've been meaning to talk with you, asshole."

Schreiber laughed. "You weren't chosen by accident," he said. "You have fulfilled your role admirably up until this point—but now you must perform one final task."

"Start making some sense," Henry shot at him. "What role? What the fuck do I have to do with this?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Schreiber asked. "You are the last of the '21 Sacraments,' Henry—the Receiver of Wisdom. It was your duty—your obligation—to come here and fulfill that role. I am responsible for imparting that wisdom upon you. Now we both must settle this affair. We can no longer turn away from this—no longer turn away from the truth."

"You mean to tell me," Henry said, chuckling, "that I'm the last one? I'm number 21?"

"Yes." Schreiber nodded. "Even now Walter is preparing to kill not only you but the other two. He has successfully separated himself from the mortal world, and so he cannot be stopped by mortal means. He has become a perfect enforcer for them."

"Them?"

"The Order," answered Schreiber. "They are a secret, powerful group dedicated to the black arts. They have operated for years, maybe centuries, developing their schemes and plans—and now is the time for them to make their move. They have turned an otherwise good-willed man into a monster. Walter is now their puppet, devoid of logic or reason. All he knows is this mission. He will complete the ritual."

"Why?" Henry asked. "What's the point? Why are they having him kill us?"

"To facilitate the birth of their god," Schreiber said simply.

"Their god?"

"They need a maiden capable of becoming Her vessel. By completing the '21 Sacraments,' Walter will cleanse and purify the maiden. And once you are killed, She will descend upon the world."

Henry cocked his brow. "You expect me to believe that? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit."

"It's the truth." Schreiber sighed. "I tried to stop them, and by extension, him, as well—but I failed. It was not my role. It is you—you and the children of your generation that can change this."

"Look," Henry said, stepping forward, "I don't give a flying fuck about gods or any voodoo cock-shit. But I _will_ stop Sullivan. Whether I die or not, I'm bringing him down. I won't let you or anyone else die for some crackpot's pipedream."

"He cannot be killed," Schreiber said, "so long as his mortal body remains intact. In order to stop the monster he has become, you must destroy what is left of his flesh." He moved aside and gestured down the hall to the far wall, where a pickaxe was lodged into the plaster.

"I tried to find it, but they had already destroyed most of his body by the time I reached his grave. There is only piece left, something I discovered and hid away. You will find it, and the rest of your answers, behind that wall."

Henry walked past him and took hold of the pickaxe before hefting it out of the wall. He gripped it tightly and raised it. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Destroy his flesh in his presence," said Schreiber. "Allow him to rest in peace."

"Why can't I just kill him now?" Henry groaned, looking back. "Sounds like a load of—"

Schreiber was gone, as were the candles littering the apartment. Everything had righted itself. Henry blinked and glanced down to find the pickaxe still in his hands, the weight of it as real as anything he had ever held.

"Well, fuck it," he said and drove the pickaxe into the wall. He pulled it out and swung again, puffs of dust billowing around him. With one final strike a sizeable chunk of the wall crumbled, allowing for entry. Henry dropped the pickaxe and ducked through, coughing and wheezing at the powerful stench hanging in the air. He covered his mouth, eyeing the shelves of medicine bottles and chemicals warily.

He approached a crooked table, where splayed out atop it were a small box and a red, leather-bound book. Henry picked up the box, disgusted at the odor rising from it, and opened it up, shocked to find a shriveled, pale heart resting on paper.

"Holy fuck," Henry breathed, dropping it back onto the table. Lying off to the side was a rusted dagger. He picked it up as well, testing its weight, and then looked over to the book. It was opened to a single entry.

** August 33****rd****. the last 2 are 20 and 21 the MOTHER is EiLEEn Galvin, aGe 17**

** the last is HENRY TOWNSHEND the RECEIVER OF WISDOM THE FINAL**

** SIGN**

** in order to kill you must kill kill kill kill kill **

** KILL HIM BY SEPARATING THE BODY AND THE SOUL THE MIND AND**

** THE FLESH**

** if YOU ARE READING this you are the RECEIVER**

** You are the last one.**

Henry read and reread the entry, his grip on the dagger tightening. Eileen. Eileen Galvin. The girl he had hurt. Suddenly, it was clear to him. He knew what he had to do.

"Damn kid," Braintree grumbled, flushing the toilet and zipping up his trousers. "Thinks he's some hot shit, doesn't he?" He ran the water and washed his hands, roughly scrubbing them in the scalding water.

"I don't need to take his shit," he said, looking up at himself in the mirror and smoothing out his hair. He grinned and placed his hands under the warm air of the electric dryer. "I think it's been about ten minutes," he lilted to himself, chuckling. "Better go check on the little—"

He turned and came face-to-face with a colossus of a man, draped in a long, dark raincoat. "Who the hell—" Braintree was thrown back against the sink, the sheer force of the blow knocking his head back into the mirror.

"Son of a bitch!" He fell to his knees and reached behind his head, gingerly touching the wound and the blood seeping out. "You punk," he muttered, rising and reaching behind his back. "You little fucking _punk_. You think you can just waltz in here like you own the place—you think you can just push me around like I'm some _nobody_?"

He produced a revolver and thrust it in the man's direction. "Well, let me make it crystal clear to you, you little shit—I'm Richard Braintree! _No one_ pushes me around! I did not get to where I am by having you fucks trample all over me! You think you can just do whatever you want? You think you actually got some _credibility_ in all this? The truth is, you don't have anything! You don't deserve anything! I had to earn it all! We all had to earn it! And you have just the made the single most stupid mistake of your little, shit-stain life."

He thumbed the revolver. Walter Sullivan opened his mouth and spoke. "Chaos."

Henry had heard the ensuing gunshot while descending the stairs towards the second floor, and he quickly rushed towards it source, the dagger in one hand, the box containing the heart in the other. Another series of gunshots sounded while he was on the lobby, and then a scream followed. He made it down to the lobby, where an uncanny silence reigned.

"Shit," he mumbled, seeing the restroom door open, the lights bright within. He approached, suddenly stricken by the sight of Braintree's body, bloody and beaten, lying on the tile. The mirror was shattered, shards of the glass embedded in the man's face. A series of numbers had been carved into his forehead: "19121."

"Fuck!" howled Henry, slamming the hilt of the dagger against the doorway. Without another thought, he hurried out of the building and into the night.

"There you are!" Heather exclaimed, finding Eileen sitting at a table alone, nursing a cup of punch. Eileen looked up to her, delighted.

"You came!"

"Well, I told you I would," Heather said, sitting down and grabbing a roll from one of the plates. "So I guess Dumbrowski's stinking it up somewhere else?"

"He's out there with some of his friends," Eileen said, nodding off towards the dance floor. "I'm kind of glad. Still—if I'm here, I wish I could be a little less miserable."

"Hey, well, we can dance," said Heather, standing and shaking her hips. Eileen giggled at the display but shook her head. "I'm serious!" Heather pouted and sat down. Selina flew up onto the table.

"So this is the 'prom,'" she said, looking around in wonder at the gymnasium. "Why is it so noisy?"

"We can't hear you," Eileen joked, receiving a glare from the fairy. The girl sighed and looked around, catching sight of James at another table, conversing with Alex and Elle.

"Hey—isn't that guy Henry's friend? James, or whatever?"

"Eileen, we are _not_ talking about Henry Townshend anymore, 'kay? Seriously."

"Heather!"

"Okay, okay." She nodded, glancing towards James. "Yeah, that's James Sunderland. Why, you want to talk or—"

Eileen was already heading over to the table, Selina trailing behind her. Heather groaned, rolled her eyes, and followed them.

"We can all dance together, James," Alex said, sitting with Elle across from him. "I mean, we're here, right?"

"He's right," Elle said. "I don't think Mary would want you moping around."

"I'm okay," James told them, putting on a smile. "Really, don't worry about it. I'm having fun."

"You don't look like it," she replied, glimpsing to the side and noticing the girls approaching them. "Hey, isn't that—"

"Um, you're James, right?" Eileen asked, stepping up to the table. "Henry's friend?"

James stared at her, momentarily surprised, and then nodded. "Yeah—and you're Eileen? Heather?"

"Yeah," said the other girl, nudging Eileen aside. "And where is Townshend, anyway? Screwing over more girls?"

"Hey," Alex reproached, narrowing his eyes at her. "How dare you say something like that."

"How dare I?" Heather responded. "It's the truth! He broke her heart, and now she has to waste one of the most memorable nights of her life with that dick Dumbrowski."

"Okay, stop," James said, holding up his hands. "Please, just let it go. Henry didn't want to do it—but he's not the most considerate type of guy. He's stubborn and pigheaded and sometimes he crosses the line, but what he did he did because, in his mind, he had to."

"I know that," Eileen said, sitting down. "Do you know where he is?"

"I—"

"_Sunderland_!" Eddie laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you trying to steal my date?"

"Eileen's not _your_ date," Heather said, scowling at him. "She's not your property."

"Mason, Mason," Eddie chided, "did I ever say she was? Eileen's here because she decided to come. No one forced her to."

"That's—" Heather fell silent, fuming. "She never would've come if you hadn't pulled her arm."

"What are they talking about, Eddie?" Alex asked. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," Eddie said, pulling Eileen up by the arm. "I've had enough of all your self-righteous crap. Come on, we're going to dance—"

"No!" Heather cried, standing. "I'm the one's who's had enough of _you_! You have no right to expect us to play your stupid games! You're not going to force Eileen to do anything else!"

"Heather, stop," Eileen murmured. "Don't do anything stupid."

"She's right, Mason," Eddie said. "Don't do anything stupid—as if you could do anything else, anyway. You're just a monkey. You're the one who has no right even _speaking_ to me."

"If I'm a monkey, then you're just a big, fat gorilla!" Heather cracked at him.

"You little bitch!" Eddie exclaimed, pushing Eileen away, before erupting into laughter. "You won't drag me down to your level; I won't let it happen. You primates only solve things through violence. So, what are you going to do? Hit me?"

"_She's_ not," Eileen said, "but I am!" She socked him right across the face, catching his nose and driving him to the floor. All the others looked on in surprise. Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and touched his face, tracing the trail of blood from his nose.

"You—you—_bitch_," he breathed, furious. "I'm—I'm _bleeding_! I'm _bleeding_!" He scrambled to his feet, throwing vicious glances at every one of them. "You'll—you'll pay for this! I swear you will!"

He ran off and out of the gym. James drew a content breath. "So much for karmic retribution," he mumbled to himself.

"What the hell, Eileen!" Heather cried happily, hugging her. "That was awesome! You finally grew a spine!"

"I just got tired of him calling you an ape," Eileen said. "I couldn't stand it anymore."

"Eileen," Heather said, looking into her eyes, "for all your feminist BS, we _really_ need to work on your self-esteem."

"Well, I don't really know what just happened," Alex said, "but I figure the problem's taken care of?"

"Not exactly," Heather replied, turning to him. "I've still got to settle things with Townshend. Now—"

A scream from the other end of the gym caught their attention. The group turned to see the crowds of students scattering, revealing a tall, dark figure slowly making its way towards them. More screams ran through the throngs, the panic spreading. Heather tensed, her words caught in her throat. Selina appeared on her shoulder, trembling.

"Princess—"

] "I feel it," Heather whispered. "It's—it's definitely a demon. But—it's so _strong_—it's nothing like the other ones."

Alex stood and gasped upon glimpsing the familiar, navy coat and hood. "It's him," he said frightfully.

"Alex?" Elle said, looking to him. "What's going on? Who is that?"

"That's the guy Henry and I met," he said. "That's the guy who killed Velasquez!"

"It can't be!" James cried. "That's Sullivan?"

"Elle, you've got to get out of here," Alex said, turning to her. "Get out while you can. James, take her and the other girls."

"Wait!" exclaimed James. "He's only after one person—I don't think he'll go after anyone else!"

"And who is he after?" Alex argued. "You all have got to get out of here now!"

"But what about you?" Elle demanded. "You have to come with us!"

Alex shook his head. "No," he said. "I have to try and hold him off. I can't stop him, but I might be able to buy some time—"

"No, you get out of here, too," Heather said calmly, stepping in front of the group to face the oncoming specter. "I'll handle this."

"Are you crazy?" Alex yelled. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm the only one who can do it," she said, removing the pocket mirror from her jeans. Eileen touched her arm.

"Heather—"

"You get out of here, Eileen," she said. "I'll be fine." She furrowed her brow at the man, who stopped in the center of the gym, his gaze fixed on the group. The rest of the students and faculty ran off, and some of his handiwork was apparent: several students lay incapacitated throughout the room.

"He _is_ only coming for one person," Heather said, holding up the pocket mirror and watching him raise his arm and point, not at her—but at Eileen.

"Mother," he said quietly.

"He's after her," James gasped. "Eileen! He's after Eileen!"

"Not if I can help it!" Heather cried, brandishing the accessory, pink light enveloping her. "_Heart power_!"

The light faded, leaving Princess Heart standing to intercept Sullivan. Cries sounded from the scattered students.

"It's her!"

"Princess Heart!"

"She's here to save us!"

"No way," Elle said, standing at Alex's side. "She's Princess Heart!"

Witnessing the event, James could only shake his head in disbelief. "Damn it, Henry—you better get here quick."

"All of you, get Eileen out of here!" Heather shouted before launching herself at the man, poised to strike—her fist swung into his jaw, connecting, but he simply stood upright after the blow, unimpeded.

"What the—" He took her by the throat and sent her flying back into the far wall, where she crashed and then collapsed to the floor. Quickly she got to her feet, rubbing her neck gingerly. "That didn't even faze him," she coughed. "Just what _is_ this guy? Is he human—or is he a demon?"

"Heather!" Eileen cried, ready to hurry over to her, when James took her hand.

"We've got to go!" he yelled, pulling her along, when suddenly Sullivan appeared before them, hands outstretched.

"Mother," he repeated, his lips quivering a distorted smile. Eileen screamed in horror.

"Get down!" Heather screamed, and James threw himself and Eileen to the floor. Twin yellow lasers shot forth and engulfed Sullivan's face, nearly blasting him back. However, he stood firm, enduring the attack, his body lurching forward, the hood of his coat decimated. He looked up, his face scorched and burnt, the skin regenerating.

"That's no fair!" whined Heather. Meanwhile, James and Eileen were on their feet, hurrying away. Sullivan made to give chase, but suddenly Alex hurtled himself into the man, disrupting him. Quickly Sullivan grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and flung him away, but it was enough time for Heather to summon her dual pipes.

"Chew on this, bitch!" she screamed, flailing whips of light at him. They coiled around Sullivan's arms, binding him, but as soon as they made contact, shadowy darkness manifested around his body, writhing and malevolent. He flexed his arms and the whips shattered into fragments of light, as did the pipes.

"No way," Heather said, stunned, as Sullivan approached her. She stood her ground, worried. "This isn't good," she mumbled to Selina, who emerged from under the coils of the girl's hair.

"I don't understand it," the fairy said. "Princess Heart's power should be fatal to the demons—it makes no sense!"

"Well, unless this guy isn't a demon," Heather said, "but a human shouldn't be able to have this sort of power—right?"

Sullivan raised a hand, loosening his fingers, and suddenly a powerful, invisible blast knocked Heather off her feet, tearing up the wood beneath her. She recovered quickly, just as Sullivan had turned his sights once again on Eileen and James.

"This guy just won't stop," he said, pushing Eileen behind him.

Heather rose, the Heart Rod manifesting in her hand. "I don't know who you are, bud, but you're not going to win!" She rushed at him, uttering a loud battle cry, prepared to attack. Sullivan merely turned to her, the sheer force of power erupting from him enough to send her flying away. James and Eileen toppled over, entangled between each other, helpless as Sullivan descended upon them.

"Mother," he whispered gleefully. "Mother—_mother_!"

He stopped. His face contorted into an expression of pure agony, and he crumpled to his knees, clutching at his chest. He gagged and retched, shaking violently. They all watched, amazed, as black flames enveloped his body, burning away at his clothing and skin. He moaned, soon screaming.

His real, beating heart sat in its box, penetrated by the old, rusted dagger. Blood oozed out, black and vile. Henry dug the blade in deeper, his hands trembling with hate, and then he jerked the dagger out. Blood shot out like a geyser, and then the heart fell still. A final plume of dark fire lashed out, dying, and then Sullivan was nothing more than ash.

The heart simmered and began to dissolve into black acid, eating away at the wooden box; Henry dumped it unceremoniously onto the pile of ash, his expression steely as it also burnt and vanished.

"It's over," he declared quietly. "Rest in peace, fucker."

Slowly, tentatively, Heather and the others rose. James and Eileen, initially awestruck, broke out into smiles. "Henry!" she cried joyously, latching onto him in a tight embrace.

"Hey, what the fuck?" he blurted, pulling her off. "What the hell?"

"Oh, uh—sorry." She blushed and turned away, embarrassed, as James approached his friend.

"So I guess you did end up finding something, huh?" he asked.

"You can say that again," Henry said, sighing. He glanced over to Heather. "I'll explain the whole thing later. First, I've got to talk with little miss Princess Heart."

Alex and Elle joined them, similarly dumbfounded, and Heather placed her hands on her hips and cleared her throat. "Well," she said gallantly, "the day is saved once again by Princess Heart!" She made a quick peace sign and then tried to run off, but Henry called out to her.

"Not so fast, Mason! Stay right where you are!"

She groaned and turned back around, frowning. "Yeah, what do you want?" she demanded.

"Enough of the bullshit," he said. "No more lies. I want the truth."

"You can't handle the truth," she spat.

"I just saved your ass," he replied. "I think I earned the fucking right."

"Stay away from the princess!" Selina cried, flying about his head and poking at his face. "She doesn't have to tell you anything!"

"What the fuck is this?" Henry growled in annoyance. "Some kind of gnat?"

"For your information, I am a fairy!" she exclaimed. "I am one of the servants of the most honorable Fairy Quee—"

"Yeah, whatever, Navi," Henry said, swatting her aside and pointing a finger at Heather. "Like I said, enough of the bullshit. Now tell me the truth!"

She grimaced at him, angry. "Screw you. Do you realize how much trouble you've caused for me and Eileen? I don't need to tell you anything!"

"Heather, it's okay."

Both Henry and Heather turned to Eileen, who smiled serenely at them. "It's okay. We can trust him."

"Eileen—"

"She really is Princess Heart, Henry," she told him. "Heather's been fighting all this time to protect us, you know. The least you can do is thank her."

"Yeah!" Heather agreed, folding her arms.

Henry clicked his tongue and folded his own arms across his chest. "Well, while you were dicking around, people like Jasper and Cynthia died. There—"

"All of you, just stop," James said, standing between them. "Enough. It's over. What's done is done."

"Would someone mind explaining what's going on here?" Elle cried. "What the hell's happening?"

A laugh caught them off-guard. "I'd be happy to explain."

They all turned to find Leonard Wolf standing at the other end of the gym, smirking smugly. He removed his hands from his coat pockets and briefly applauded. "I must admit, you all have surprised me. To think that you'd be able to stop the Conjurer—well, it's something we didn't foresee."

"Principal Wolf?" Heather uttered in surprise. "What are you—"

"You should know very well, Heather, just who I am," he said. "I am Leonard Wolf, and my sworn duty is to bring about Paradise. To do this, we, the Order, require a power paramount to that which created the world and all life. We need the Seal of Metatron."

"The Order?" she mumbled, shocked. "No—that can't be true! You—"

Henry thrust the dagger in his direction. "You son of a bitch," he hissed. "I don't care who you are, you're responsible for killing Cynthia and all the others! You're the ones who let Sullivan loose!"

"Yes, that's true," Leonard said. "Since he was a young boy, we conditioned Walter to abide by the word of God, to serve Her in every possible way. He was an ignorant child, all too eager to follow us wherever we lured him. Through this ritual, the '21 Sacraments,' we aspired to find a suitable vessel for God—in this case, the Mother Reborn."

"You mean Eileen," Henry said.

"The only ones capable are those of the bloodline of the fairies," Leonard went on. "You, Heather Mason, inherited the power of Princess Heart—and your dear friend here, Eileen Galvin—she is your sister."

"_What_?" Eileen and Heather both blurted in unison. They turned to each other, mouths agape. "But we look nothing alike!"

Leonard laughed heartily. "You are not sisters by blood, but by _spirit_. The two of you are daughters of the Fairy Queen, pure maidens who will make a fitting vessel for God!" He reached into his coat and produced a vial of black liquid.

"You won't get away with it," growled Henry. "I'll make sure all of you pay for everything!"

"Noble words, boy," Leonard said, dumping the vial onto the floor. "But tonight will be the end of you and your friends." The liquid spread, covering a great portion of the floor, consuming tables, chairs, and balloons alike.

"Everyone, stand back!" Heather commanded, witnessing the familiar pentacle form, this time massive. The black void writhed, and from its depths emerged a humongous, slick worm-like creature, its thick, cylindrical body covered in slime.

"A monster?" Henry cried.

"A _demon_!" Heather corrected, brandishing the Heart Rod. The beast landed before them, its front end opening into a gigantic maw, furnished with rows of pointed, glimmering teeth, and roared.

"All of you get out of here!" Heather yelled. "I'll take care of Mr. Slug here!"

"Behold the Split Worm," Leonard said. The others ran, distancing themselves as the monstrosity thrashed about, ravaging the gym. Heather sprang back, struggling to maintain her balance.

"Any ideas?" she asked Selina, who held onto her headband tightly.

"I've never seen anything like it!" the fairy responded. "I—I don't know what to do, to be honest."

"Well, we'll just have to think of something!" Heather jumped away again, avoiding another slam. She glanced back, relieved to see the others out of the gym. "At least I can distract it!" Her eyes glowed yellow, shimmering. "Heather beam!"

The lasers struck the Split Worm's hide, hardly scratching it, but the demon squirmed over to her, regardless. "That's right—follow me!" She bounded off out of the gym and into a hall, the Split Worm following and destroying whatever was in its path.

Henry ran alongside the others, glancing back at the carnage. "There has to be something we can do!" he shouted, but James shook his head.

"That thing's too big!" he replied. "We'd need—well, shit, we'd need TNT, or something!"

"That's the first time I've heard you curse in a while," Henry laughed. "I guess we really _are_ fucked."

Heather ran, with each stride losing more and more ground. "This thing's wiping out the whole school!" she shouted, glancing back to see the Split Worm right behind her, sagging about and demolishing classrooms and hallways. "I've got to stop it here and now!"

She spun around, standing firm in the monster's path. "Princess?" Selina uttered fearfully, but Heather simply tightened her grip on the Heart Rod and raised it as if to bat a baseball. The Split Worm was suddenly upon her—she swung, unleashing an enormous, pink heart of love.

"_Home run_!"

The heart tore through straight through the beast and then exploded.

Henry, James, and the others collapsed outside in the parking lot, just barely escaping as the school exploded in glittering pink light. "Heather!" screamed Eileen, the light dissipating into the night.

"Did she do it?" Alex asked, holding Elle close.

"I hope to shit, yeah," Henry chuckled, trying to regain his breath. James stood beside him, the two staring onward as the smoke cleared and after several long minutes, Heather stumbled out of the wreckage of Ashfield High.

"Heather!" Eileen rushed to her friend, catching her in an embrace and crying.

"Don't squeeze so hard," Heather groaned, patting Eileen on the back. "I'm okay. Nothing a nice, relaxing bath can't fix—right?"

"So," Henry said, "you killed that thing?"

"Yeah, no need to thank me," she replied dryly, raising a cute worm keychain.

"Looks fucking retarded," he commented.

Heather grimaced, about to respond, when someone hailed them from what was left of the school.

"Impressive!" Leonard bellowed, his coat obliterated, his clothes singed and burnt and his skin ashen. "Now I understand this incredible power. I _must_ have it!"

Heather stood before her newfound allies, Heart Rod in hand. "I don't want to fight anymore," she choked out, "but you—you people have gone too far this time!"

Leonard laughed and shattered a vial above his head, dousing himself in the black liquid. "Your rage is what makes you powerful, Heather Mason," he cackled, his body growing in size and melting, the skin becoming sick, yellow mush. "I will possess that power! _I will have it_!"

"I won't let you!" she screamed, running at him, the heart emblem on her uniform glowing brightly. A blinding, extravagant light surrounded her, leaving behind golden lining on her boots and gloves, and shining, translucent wings protruding from her back. Her headband and earmuffs transformed into a golden, jewel-encrusted tiara. The Heart Rod in her hand morphed into a staff, the giant jewel at its tip spinning, brightly radiating.

"Don't tell me," Henry said. "_Princess Heart R_?"

Leonard staggered forward, a giant of melting and burning skin, black liquid pouring from his body. "_That power will be mine_!"

"No, it _won't_!" cried Heather, raising her staff. "By the power of the heart and true love's light, I'm sending you _back to hell_!"

**!****中心力****!**

She swung the staff down, a colossal, bright comet of a heart racing out of it, shining a multitude of colors. Leonard was engulfed by the ferocious attack, and, for a single moment, the night turned to day, the sky and stars overpowered by the sheer light of love.

When it was all over, Heather collapsed, her uniform fading away. The pocket mirror clattered out of her hand and onto the asphalt. "Heather," Eileen said, reaching her and turning her over. "Hey, Heather—say something! Say something!"

"It's okay," James said breathlessly. "She's still breathing."

"You're—you're right," Eileen chirped happily, hugging her friend.

Henry watched her cry over the girl, and, strangely, his gaze was pulled upwards to the light of the morning, where Ashfield High was still standing, just as dignified as always. The birds were singing; the sun shone high in the sky. A group of people were crowded around the entrance, facing him, and he recognized several of their faces instantly: Jasper, DeSalvo, Braintree, and—

"Looks like you did it, tiger," Cynthia said, standing before him, smiling, no longer bleeding, no longer marked by those terrible numbers.

"It's not over yet," he said softly, meeting her gaze. "But—I guess it's a start."

"You'll be okay," she said, patting his cheek. "You've got all these friends."

"Yeah." He sniffled, his eyes watering. A tear ran down his cheek.

"Don't cry," she told him, wiping them away with her thumb. Her sad smile faltered. "Well, this is it. We've got to go."

"Cynthia—"

She kissed him. "Thanks, Henry," she said finally, moving back, and then they were all gone.

"Henry?"

He looked up, eyes watery, and saw James in front of him. "Henry, you all right?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding and wiping his eyes. "It's just these fucking allergies, you know." He cleared his throat, sighed, and then looked around. "Hey, by the way—where's Mary?"

Not too far off, hidden in the shadows, Claudia watched the group quickly leave, anxious to avoid any suspicion once the police arrived. Her dress was torn, her eyes bleary with tears, her hair frayed. She gripped the tree she was hiding behind fiercely, digging her fingernails into the bark. Princess Heart had killed her father.

**END EPISODE 10**

**With the events of prom still fresh on their minds, Heather forms an uneasy alliance with Henry and his friends in an effort to discover more about the devious Order! Meanwhile, even in the wake of Leonard Wolf's death, the remaining members of the Order move along their terrible plans—and in the midst of all this, an enigmatic new figure appears, but is she friend or foe?**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 11: The Mysterious Lady Heart Appears!"**

**Things are starting to heat up!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of its respective copyright holders**

_(A/N: Formatting removes the line breaks, so I apologize.)_**  
**


	11. The Mysterious Lady Heart Appears!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 11: The Mysterious Lady Heart Appears!**

It was snowing. The air was frigid and chilly; biting winds blew in all directions, flurries of snow. The town was empty, devoid of life, its abandoned homes and storefronts the ruins of a dead people. But at the center of all that cold, something was alive. Something hummed beneath the streets, beating like a heart, hot and fiery. She could feel it growing, developing deep within that town, dormant. The coils wrapped around it loosened, slowly shedding. The monster's valet watched and waited, turning the wheels with each horrific breath. Down there, the walls were red with blood and rust.

Heather awoke in her bed, startled, covered in cold sweat. The familiar sight of her stuffed animals greeted her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She sat up in her bed, squinting from the glare of the window, and pressed a hand to her forehead—a dull pain lingered in her skull.

The bedroom door opened, revealing Eileen with a soda in her hand, which she nearly dropped with excitement. "Oh, shit, you're awake!" she sputtered and hurried over to the side of the bed.

"Keep it down," Heather groaned. "I have, like, the worst headache ever. And fuck am I _thirsty_."

"Well, it's not a hangover, at least," Eileen said, glancing down at the soda. "Here, have this."

"Thanks." Heather took a heavy swig of the pop. She lowered the can and burped lightly. "Crap, man. What happened?"

"You don't remember?" asked Eileen, sitting down on the bed. "Everything at prom?"

"You've been asleep for two days, Princess!" Selina cried, suddenly appearing and buzzing about the girl's head.

"Two days?" Heather said, frowning. "Shit." She gulped down more of the soda. "Well—I do remember that guy showing up and then the worm thing—but that's—" She tensed up, her eyes closing. "Principal Wolf," she said quietly. "He was the one behind it."

"He was a member of the Order," Selina said. "Considering the power he possessed, he must have been a member of high rank."

"He turned himself into a demon," Eileen said, "and you beat him."

"Yeah, I remember now," Heather replied. "I just—I just exploded. I was so sick of it—of those demons, of Dumbrowski, of all that stuff—and I just _exploded_. I remember—feeling some sort of huge power—like I was invincible—and then it's all blurry after that."

"It was badass!" exclaimed Eileen. "I don't know what it was, but it was like you—_transformed_, or something! And then you just creamed him!"

Selina floated up and down in agreement. "I had no idea Princess Heart was capable of power like that," she said. "It was amazing."

"Well, not all that amazing if I blacked out for two whole days," Heather said, climbing out of the bed and stretching. "Did you just carry me over here after that, or what?"

Eileen nodded. "Henry's friends helped us back. Your dad was surprised—but, well, he didn't ask us anything. He just let us put you in bed, and since then I've been hanging around, keeping an eye on you when he goes out."

At the mention of her father, Heather dropped her gaze. "You know, I never thought about what he might think of all this Princess Heart business in the first place. I guess I just took it for granted that he would never find out."

"Well, technically he _didn't_ find out," Eileen said. "All he saw was a bunch of kids he didn't know with his unconscious daughter—and me, of course. But I guess we were all really scared, especially after everything that happened."

She looked up, her eyes brightening. "Oh, that's right! Henry wanted to know when you'd woken up—I guess to talk."

Heather groaned and sat back down. "Doesn't he ever quit? I don't feel like talking right now."

Eileen turned to her, reproachful. "Whether you like it or not, Heather, Henry _did_ practically save us. And, besides, they all know you're Princess Heart. The least we can do is talk about it."

"She's right, Princess," Selina sighed. "As worried as I am about so many people knowing, the only way to contain the damage is to tell them more."

Heather leaned back, groaning again, and finally relented. "Fine," she said, "just let me take a shower first."

"Alright, then!" Eileen laughed, slapping Heather's stomach and standing. "I guess I'll go wait—unless you need me to scrub behind your ears, or something?"

"Shut the fuck up," Heather said, smiling lightly at her. But the smile quickly waned. "Eileen?"

"What is it?"

"Do you think—do you think Claudia knows what happened to her dad?"

Eileen said nothing, unable to conjure the words. At last, she simply shrugged. "I don't know."

Henry, James, Alex, and Elle all sat at a faraway table in the Happy Burger, buffeted by windows and some promotional posters. Elle prodded her chicken salad, staring dumbly at James.

"Hey," she said, "aren't you going to eat something?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not very hungry."

Beside him, Henry sat with his arms crossed, impatiently pumping his leg. "Where are they?" he wondered aloud, popping a fry into his mouth.

"Chill, Henry," Alex said. "They'll be here soon."

"Well, they're taking fucking forever!" he exclaimed before biting down on the straw of his drink. He sucked, hearing the annoying pop of bubbles on the other end, and sighed. "I'm already out and they're _still_ not here."

"We should cut Mason some slack," James said. "After all, she was out cold for two days."

"That's an excuse," Henry told him. "She's just being difficult."

James sighed and turned to Elle. "Hey, so—have you heard anything about Mary?"

"No," she sighed. "It's not the first time she's done this, though. Personally, I think something's going on. Have you heard anything, Alex?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't. Usually they'd be in-touch, but it's been quiet." He glanced at his watch, frowning. "Hopefully they do come soon; I'm going to have to go pick Josh up."

"Good thing _our_ school's fucking wasted," Henry remarked. "And it doesn't seem like they're going to set up anything any time soon."

"They're saying it was a gas leak," said Elle. "All the students were able to get out, but no one knows where Principal Wolf is."

"He's just a puddle of goo," Henry said coldly. "That son of a bitch deserved what he got."

Alex looked towards the entrance, glimpsing Heather and Eileen walking in. "Well, they're here," he said.

The two girls approached, Eileen all smiles, Heather all frowns. They sat down and greeted the others.

"Took you long enough," Henry said. "We've been waiting _hours_."

"We're ten minutes late," Heather said briskly. "Chill out."

"Well, excuse me, _princess_," he said, smirking. "Now that you're here it's time to get to business."

"Can't we at least order something first?" she asked. "Seriously. I haven't eaten for two days, and I'm still starving."

James chuckled. "Like I said, you should cut her some slack."

"Okay, fine!" Henry moaned. "Just hurry up."

"I'll take extra long; don't worry." Heather stood up and motioned to Eileen. "You coming?"

"Nah," she said, "I'll stay here. Maybe get me some chicken nuggets? I'll cover you later."

"Yeah, sure."

Eileen turned to the others, smiling, glancing from one to the next. "So—what's up?"

"Not much," Elle replied tiredly. "I think we're all just a little restless."

"You can say that again," Henry said, focusing on Eileen. "What has she told you? You knew she was Princess Heart?"

She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah," she said lowly. "One of those Order guys kidnapped me, and Heather saved me."

"The Order," James repeated. "I take it they're the ones behind all those other attacks?"

"They're also the ones who were controlling Sullivan," Henry said through gritted teeth. "He killed all those other people for nothing. He was just a tool, like any other goddamn monster."

"Didn't Wolf say it was for some type of ritual?" Alex asked. "That Sullivan was killing the people for a reason?"

"To find Eileen," Henry said, and she blushed. "They were looking for a vessel."

"A what?"

Heather sat back down, the tray between her hands filled with hamburgers and fries. Everyone stared down at the food, their eyes wide.

"You're going to eat all of that?" Elle asked, prompting Heather to roll her eyes.

"Of course not," she said. "The chicken nuggets are for Eileen."

"Alright, that's enough!" Henry growled. "I've given you enough passes. It's time to spill the beans."

Heather unwrapped a burger, peering at him over it. "Let me eat first, jeez."

"You're just wasting our fucking time," Henry complained, rubbing his eyes. "We didn't all come here to watch you eat."

"Well, too bad," she said, chewing casually. "This is what you get for being an asshole."

"Oh, for fuck's sake—"

"Okay, we get it," James interrupted. "You have a right to be angry with him, but can we just move past it for now? We came here to get things clear."

"Yeah," Elle said. "I think we have a right to know about what happened the other night. We could've died."

Heather swallowed and lowered her burger, scowling. "Look—it's not your problem. Like I was _trying_ to tell Townshend before, you should just mind your own business. I don't need the Scooby Gang following me around everywhere."

"Mind our own business?" Henry snarled. "You bitch. Alex and I watched someone die—and it's all because of that fucking Order of yours! You think it's not our _business_?"

"I told you not to get involved!" she snapped at him. "It's your own fault."

"She would've died anyway!" he responded fiercely. "And I will not stand by and let this happen! No more people are going to die, do you hear me? No more people are going to get hurt! Whether you like it or not, you're the only one who can do this, _Princess Heart_." He sat back and clicked his tongue.

"But fuck it," he said, grabbing his jacket. "I'm not wasting any more time chatting with some snobby bitch." He stood up from the table.

"Fuck you," Heather sneered at him, and he grinned.

"The feeling's mutual."

He stormed off, leaving the others to exchange worried glances. After a moment, they followed, Eileen and Heather remaining at the table.

"Heather—"

"You can go with them, if you want," Heather said, calmly eating her food.

"No," Eileen said quickly, surprising her friend. "I'm staying right here." She bit into a nugget, sighing. "I can't believe you sometimes."

Heather remained mum, and the two girls ate in stony silence.

Outside, James, Alex, and Elle stopped Henry in the parking lot.

"Henry, hold on!" James called after him. "You're just going to leave?"

"Fuck yeah," he said, turning back to them. "She can suck my balls. I can tell we're not going to get anywhere."

"Henry, come on," Alex said. "Let's just go back inside and start over."

"Fuck her," he said, waving a hand and pausing. "And tell Eileen I'm sorry."

Alex sighed, watching him go. "I've got to pick up Josh," he murmured. "We'll have to postpone this meeting of ours until later. There's no point if he's not here, anyway." He and Elle shared a brief kiss, and then was off, as well.

Elle then bid her own farewell, and James returned inside to find the girls still eating next to one another, silent. He reconsidered and left.

Heather arrived home and promptly threw herself onto the couch in the living room, stewing in her frustration. Selina floated above her, concerned.

"Princess—"

"What?" she asked back, shutting her eyes. She laced her hands behind her head and kicked her legs in the air irritably. "Seriously, is it so wrong for me to not want anything to do with that guy? He's a dick."

"He seems to want to help," Selina said. "It might not hurt to let him help us."

"You're the one who was saying I should beware of strangers, and whatever," Heather said. "Besides, he's right—_I'm_ the only one who can fight them. They'll just get in the way, like at prom."

"You weren't exactly faring too well," the fairy said. "Maybe we can't completely rely on the power of Princess Heart—"

Heather sat up, scowling. "What's _that_ supposed to mean? You think I can't do it?"

"No!" Selina quickly replied. "I just think—"

"Blah, blah, blah—I know what you think." Heather stood up and angrily faced the fairy. "How can you even say that? I've been fighting all this time—I beat Vincent and even Principal Wolf! I can do it!

"And, hell, it's not like you've been helping! You're the one who came to me, saying I have to save all the other fairies, but you don't even know why they were captured! We don't even know what the Order _wants_!"

She sighed and sat back down. "So all I can do right now _is_ fight—fight and win. It's up to me."

Selina hung her head, disheartened, and they both heard a door close from up above. The fairy quickly hid herself; Harry descended the stairs and stepped off into the room.

"You're back," he said, smiling. "Eileen had said you'd woken up. I was relieved, to say the least."

Heather stared at him, her aggravation and fury within suddenly vanishing. She stood up, drew a tentative breath, and spoke. "Dad, I—"

"You don't need to tell me," he said with a sigh, taking her aback. "I may not know what's going on in your life now, but I do know you must have a reason for keeping it from me."

"It's not because I want to," she said, her voicing wavering. Harry raised his brow, surprised to see her shedding tears. "I was a real bitch the other night, you know, and I've been really out of it with Eileen and everyone else—and if you want to see Michelle again, you should, 'cause I'll—"

Harry embraced his daughter, holding her as she cried. "No matter what, you'll always be my daughter," he said. "I'll always be there for you, whatever happens."

"I know," she whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he told her, holding her at arm's length. "It's my fault. I didn't realize what you were going through, but I won't make that mistake again, okay? Cheryl?"

She looked at him, eyes wide, and then slowly smiled. "Yeah," she said, sniffling. "Yeah, okay."

He patted her cheek, content. "Alright. How about we go get some ice cream? Will that cheer you up?"

"They're going to think we're dating, or something," she said quietly, giggling. "Like you're some sort of pedophile."

"Nonsense," he said, ruffling her hair. "So I married young—that's no reason for me not to treat my little girl, right?"

As Henry left his house, throwing his jacket on, he was suddenly beset by Eileen.

"Hey!"

He merely blinked at her, disturbed by her beaming face and sparkling eyes. "Hey," he said lowly, glancing over to her house. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Oh, no," she laughed, running a hand through her hair. "I was just, uh, you know, coming outside, too. I saw you, and, well—"

"Yeah, I get it." He walked past her onto the sidewalk, but she followed him, keeping pace.

"Hold on—Henry—"

"What is it?" he asked exasperatedly, turning to her. "This better not be about that broad Mason—"

"It's not about her," Eileen said coolly, "it's about me. So be quiet and listen."

This surprised him, and he shrugged. "Fine. Talk."

She smiled and nodded. "Thanks. First of all, I just wanted to say that I don't hold anything against you. I mean, it's no big deal—it's in the past. And, besides, you saved me back there. I really—I really owe you one, you know?"

He snorted. "Yeah, right. You don't owe me a damn thing—no one does. I just did what I had to do, and even then you're the only one I was able to save. All the others died, which is something that little friend of yours can't seem to understand."

Eileen averted her gaze, frowning. "Heather's—got her own problems, too. I can't say she's acting very maturely, but she's trying." She giggled. "It's true, though—she can be pretty moody, and she holds grudges like a real cunt. But she tries to do what's right, like you, I guess."

"Sounds like you two are pretty close," Henry said, his lip quirked up. "Are you two lesbians, or something?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, tittering. "We've been BFF's forever; that's all. Heather's always stood up for me, and that's why she gets so defensive—but I can take care of myself, you know? I don't need her around all the time."

She laughed and turned to him. "So, anyway, I was thinking that we could do something—maybe."

He peered at her quizzically. "Do something?"

"Yeah!" She grinned and held up a finger. "Like watch a movie, or go eat something"—she paused, thinking—"or just, you know—talk and chill. It doesn't really matter to me. So, how about it? It'll be fun!" Giddily she punched his arm, and then suddenly realized what she had done.

"Oh, shit," she gasped, mortified. "Oh, shit, oh, shit. I'm so sorry. I—"

"It's okay," he said with a sigh. "You're really fucking weird, you know that? Are you always so valley-girl?"

"I'm not a bimbo," she huffed. "I'm just a little nervous."

"Whatever you say."

She frowned. "So, what do you think? Are we good or nah?"

"Yeah, sure."

Eileen's frown morphed into a wide smile. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes—but you tell me everything you know about what's going on."

She sighed, but the smile remained. "Yeah, yeah, I'll tell you. Now let's go!" She took his arm, and they were off.

"I remember us always coming here when I was younger," Heather said, digging into her sundae. She and Harry sat at a table in the parlor against the window, admiring the city outside. Harry smiled softly, toting a cone in his hand.

"You used to like strawberry," he said, looking down at the hot fudge and vanilla of her sundae. "What happened?"

She shrugged, plopping the spoon into her mouth. "I don't know," she said. "I guess my tastes just changed, or something."

"I was always the same way," he said. "I'd always have a new favorite food or drink. It surprised my parents how fickle I was."

"Grandpa and Grandma," Heather said, thoughtful. "I wish I could've met 'em."

Harry said nothing, silently pondering this. "I wish you had aunts and uncles, too," he told her at last, "and with them, some cousins. But it just didn't pan out."

"Mom didn't have any brothers or sisters, either?" she asked unwittingly, and then the peaceful, happy air between them quickly grew tense. Slowly Harry shook his head.

"No," he replied. "Your mother didn't have any family."

She looked at him, their gazes locking, and nodded curtly. "Oh."

"Heather—"

"Dad, it's okay," she said, smiling. "Like you said—I have my reasons, and you have yours. Maybe one day, we'll both tell each other."

He chuckled. "Yeah—yeah, we will." He smiled and licked at his cone. "Sometimes I forget how grown-up you are. You've really matured, Heather."

"You think?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I can see it. You're becoming a woman."

"Dad, shut up. You're sounding like a pedophile."

He sighed. "Not that again! Come on, cut your old man some slack."

"Well, what type of example are you supposed to be setting?" she said, scooping out some more of her sundae. They laughed.

"I can't believe you're making me watch this shit," Henry grumbled, fidgeting restlessly in his seat. "Pandas in space? What the fuck am I going to watch?" Eileen giggled, throwing popcorn into her mouth beside him.

"It'll be fun," she said, glancing at him. "You've just got to give it a chance."

"It's not fun," he replied, resting his head on his fist. "It's two hours better spent doing some other shit."

"It's an hour-and-a-half," Eileen said. She held the bucket of popcorn up to him. "Want some?"

Henry shifted away, wrinkling his nose at the butter and oil. "No, thanks."

"Suit yourself," she said, leaning back in her chair. The lights began to dim; around them, some latecomers filed into their seats. The screen flickered, and Henry found himself looking over at Eileen as darkness descended, her face illuminated by the brief flashes of light from the preview. She was laughing, happy, enjoying herself.

Henry smiled, himself, realizing he had done this—he had protected this. But this happy thought was fleeting. He remembered the many others Walter Sullivan had killed, all the others who had potentially been killed by the Order, and his blood ran hot.

Nevertheless, he steeled himself and endured the film. When it was over, and they were leaving among the other moviegoers, Eileen dumped the empty bucket into the trash and turned to him, joyful.

"So, what'd you think?"

Henry screwed up his eyes, sighing. "Are you saying you actually _liked_ that?"

"Well, sure," she said. "I mean, what's _not_ to like? That anti-gravity swordfight was _wicked_. And then when Lula had to sacrifice herself to stop the reactor—man, that was so _sad_, but then she came back!"

"Of course she did," he said tiredly. "The whole fucking movie was for little shits who can't even cum."

"You know, Henry," she said, "sometimes you've just got to relax—lighten up a little bit. It doesn't have to be so serious all the time."

"Yes, it does," he replied. "A good film _is_ a serious one. It's a work of art. It's not some CG piece of dick about bears fucking each other over for shits and giggles."

"I disagree," said Eileen. "I think it's okay to laugh, you know, to have fun. Otherwise you're just going to grow all this gray hair—and you have such nice hair." She stroked his hair, feeling clumps of it tenderly. "It's so soft and brown… You know, I wish I had soft hair—"

"What are you doing?" he asked, pulling her hand away. She flushed up, turning red.

"Oh, sorry!" she said, stepping back. "I just couldn't resist, you know?"

"I don't see what the big deal is," he said, patting his bangs. He shrugged. "Anyway. You're wrong again. True art shouldn't be funny—it should be fucking depressing, tragic. It should ram your soul in the ass and then piss on it after it's done ravaging you. It should make you contemplate things—make you think about shit."

"But—" Eileen stopped, smiling widely. "Oh, my God, are we _arguing_?"

"What?"

"We're _arguing_!" she said again, cupping her cheeks and blushing.

Henry watched her flail about, disturbed. He groaned. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" he wondered aloud, pinching the space between his eyes.

She turned to him, rejuvenated. "_So_—what do you want to do now?"

"We're doing something _else_?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed happily, interlocking their arms. "The sun is still out, and the day is young! Are you hungry? You want to go shopping?"

He sighed as she dragged him out of the lobby of the theater and out onto the street. "Can we just sit down somewhere?" he asked weakly. "I need to take a breather."

"Oh. Sure." She eyed him concernedly. "Are you okay? Oh, shit, do you feel sick? Are you tired? I—"

"Let's just sit down," he said, stumbling into a nearby café and dropping into a chair with a tired sigh. Eileen sat down next to him, still concerned.

"You _do_ look sick," she said. "Here, let me see." She reached over to lay her hand across his forehead, but he swatted her hand away.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "I'm just a little tired. Okay? Happy?"

"Well, if you say so." She sat back, looking around, and tapped her chin. "I think we have to buy something or else they'll kick us out. I'll go get something; sit tight." She stood up and patted his knee before turning away.

"Ei—" Henry sighed, watching her skip towards the counter. She returned a few minutes later with two pink-colored drinks.

"It's a smoothie," she said, placing it down before him. "I didn't know what flavor you'd like, so I got you strawberry."

"It's fine," he said, taking it up. "How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much do I owe you?"

She giggled. "Oh, you don't owe me anything, Henry-poo."

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. "What?"

Her eyes bulged, and she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, man!" she mumbled. "I keep screwing up!" Suddenly, without warning, she slapped herself across the face. Henry watched the spectacle, alarmed, but she faced him with a giddy smile.

"I'm okay," she said. "It was just a slip of the tongue."

Henry sipped his smoothie, nodding slowly. "I'm sure it was. Do you happen to see a therapist, or someone like that?"

"Huh?" She laughed loudly. "A therapist? Oh, you're such a kidder!" She sipped her own smoothie. "So, what do you think?"

He licked his lips, thoughtful. "It is good," he said. "I actually do like strawberry."

She elated. "That's great! See, I have some pretty badass intuition."

"Apparently so." Henry placed his smoothie down, his expression hardening. "What are we really doing here, Eileen?" he asked lowly.

She looked to him unflinchingly. "I just wanted to spend time with you," she said simply. "I kind of also guessed it would be a nice way to—start fresh? You know."

"Start fresh?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "What'd you think, that I was trying to twist your arm, or something?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't get what you'd want with me."

"I—" She averted her gaze, blushing. "Well—I thought we could just get to know each other better, you know? Like—maybe be friends?"

"Friends?"

"Sure!" she chirped. "I mean, so you don't have to snoop around alone anymore. And, besides, we both know about Heather's secret, so, it's kind of like—protecting our mutual interests? Do you get me?"

"Not really," he said, "but I guess you have a point. If I want to know more about what's going, I should stick with you guys."

"Yeah," she said quietly, downtrodden, watching him nurse his smoothie. "Hey, um, Henry."

"What?"

"Did you know I was adopted?"

He glanced at her, eyes narrowed. "A little random much? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know. I just felt like telling you." She shrugged. "I always hear you fighting with your dad, so—I just wanted you to know that you're not alone. We've all got our problems."

Henry set his smoothie down, rolling his eyes. "Don't be stupid," he said. "Adopted or not, you've got a family. You have nothing to complain about. And, hell, neither do I—I may not get along with that bastard, but at least I've got a roof over my head. He hasn't kicked me out yet."

Eileen blinked, speechless. "Um. Yeah, I guess."

"No, you _know_," he replied, pointing at her. "You should be grateful for all the shit you have."

She smiled softly. "I know—it just makes me think. That guy who went after me—he was trying to kill me because I'm like Heather, right? Isn't that what Principal Wolf said?"

Henry shrugged. "Hell if I know, but, whatever he meant, you're still you. Don't start brooding, or anything like that."

"I think Heather does enough of that for the both of us," she laughed. "Nah, don't worry. But can't I be just a little curious? Aren't you?"

"I don't put much stake in that type of thing anymore," Henry said, folding his arms. Briefly the words of Joseph Schreiber entered his mind, and he quickly banished them. "After what happened, I'm less interested in details and more interested in the bigger picture—namely, finding these Order guys and putting a stop all this bullshit."

"But you're just a normal person," Eileen blurted.

"That's my point," he said hotly. "Your friend Mason needs to start realizing that she's got a bigger responsibility than—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "You get what I'm saying. Now is not the time for her to be acting like a little kid."

"Heather is Heather," said Eileen. "That's just the way she is."

Lisa stood on the rooftop, gazing down lazily at the streets below and looping a vial of dark liquid between her fingers. "I guess she's had a long-enough vacation," she said, propping an elbow upon the railing and holding up her head.

"Time to let the kiddies out to play."

"I can't believe you made me have another cup!" Heather laughed, led to the jeep by her father.

"I didn't make you do anything," Harry said, pulling out the keys and unlocking the vehicle. "You just couldn't help yourself."

"You could've stopped me, you know," she said, smiling. "I'm going to turn fat if you keep enabling me."

"You look fine," he told her. "You shouldn't need to worry about that until you're at least twenty."

"Hey!"

They laughed, entering inside, when a slew of police cruisers rushed past, their sirens blaring. Heather watched, tense, as another several followed. Some of the other passerby looked on, curious.

"It could be the Order," Selina whispered from the girl's shoulder. She nodded.

"Yeah, could be," Heather said. "But how can I just go with all these people around?"

She turned to Harry, who looked on after the cruisers, his expression grave. "Hey," she said, "I wonder what that's all about? You think—"

He glanced at her, eyes hard. "What are you waiting for?" he asked, interrupting her. "You should go."

Heather stared at him, his words barely registering. His lips formed a serene smile.

"How—"

"You're wasting time," he said. "Go on."

She hesitated, one foot in the jeep and the other out, and finally she turned and ran, still shell-shocked. Harry watched her, and with a sigh he entered the jeep and prepared to drive home.

"Tell me, Bennett," Wheeler said, ducking behind his vehicle, his gun drawn, "why do we even bother coming out here when we can't do a damn thing?"

Before the defensive line of police, two Siam rampaged through the street, overturning cars and destroying storefronts. Cybil Bennett shrugged beside him, sighing. "It's our paychecks on the line," she said.

"Feels like we're the distraction," he murmured, looking up towards the sky. "At least until the magic girl drops in—and—here—she—comes."

Princess Heart dropped down, shouldering the Heart Rod. "You can lay down your weapons, officers!" she proclaimed. "Princess Heart is here!"

Wheeler chuckled. "Just try to keep the collateral down," he told her, receiving a thumbs-up in response. He nodded and waved the other officers back. "Regroup! We're clearing the scene!"

"I can't believe it," Bennett said, whistling, and Wheeler clapped her on the shoulder.

"Just be grateful you get to go home safe and sound."

As they and the others retreated, Heather stalked towards the two demons, scowling. "Wrong time of the day, assholes," she said, brandishing the Heart Rod. "Let's finish this real quick."

One of the beasts roared and launched a car at her; she easily bowed under it, snorting. "Hey, you didn't give me enough time to pau—" The other struck her across the face, propelling her across the street. She hit a lamppost, arching the metal, and fell onto her bottom.

"And you wonder why I always tell you to be careful!" Selina cried.

"Yeah, yeah," Heather grumbled, rising. "Enough playing around!" She raced at the monsters, balling a fist and driving it straight through the head of one, killing it instantly. The gem at the end of the Heart Rod glowed a bright pink, and with a swift strike Heather sliced the creature in two.

The remaining Siam bellowed in indignation and leapt into the air, raising its limbs for a retaliatory attack. Sighing, Heather waved the Heart Rod, sprinkling glittering sparkles all around her. "Blah, blah, blah, go to hell—whatever, you know the drill!" She struck out and unleashed a giant pink heart that engulfed the Siam in a definitive explosion.

She caught the keychain that flew from the smoke and swung it around impatiently. "Was that it? Seriously? Where's the comeback, the surprise twist? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Quit your whining, Heather," Lisa said from up above, waving down at her. "I'm right here."

Heather smirked and gallantly jumped up onto the roof. "I was wondering when you'd call," she said, throwing the keychain to the woman. "I was getting hurt."

Lisa caught it and stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. "I apologize for that," she said. "I tend to play hard-to-get."

"Yeah, you can say that again." Heather's smirk vanished. "Now come on! I don't really feel like doing this right now, so let's get it over with!"

"It must be tiring," Lisa said, producing a vial and uncorking it. "But, I've got to hand it to you, girl—killing Father Wolf certainly won you brownie points from me. I think it's about time the Order got some new management."

"What are you saying? You want to fill the vacuum?"

"Well, I don't want to get ahead of myself," she said, laughing. "I'm taking it one step at a time."

"You—" Heather gasped, suddenly sinking. She glanced down and let out a scream, finding herself knee-deep in pure blackness. Forms rose up and linked their arms around her own—ghastly nurses, their bodies twitching erratically.

"What the hell?" she blurted, dragged down deeper.

"Princess!" yelled Selina fearfully. Lisa slid the vial back into her jacket.

"It's no use," she said. "Once they take you down, you'll be gone forever, but, hey, at least I get to do Vincent a favor. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you down there."

"No!" uttered Heather in defiance, her legs disappearing into the darkness, followed by her torso. "I won't—I won't let you!" The emblem upon her chest began to shine, sparkling, but it ceased just as quickly; the nurses latched onto her fell back into the darkness, dead.

"What's this?" Lisa mumbled to herself, brow furrowed, when a small, pink projectile flew her way. She deftly avoided it with a tilt of the head and glanced towards its place on the rooftop. It was a rose.

She turned back, surprised to see a figure standing between her and Heather. "I can't believe it," Lisa mouthed, noting the black uniform and violet gloves and boots. The earmuffs and shoulder pads were wine-colored, and the antennae were a similar magenta. The girl turned to her, black hair long, eyes a striking blue. She held up a shining rapier, the hilt a jewel in the form of a heart.

"If you want her," the stranger said, "you'll have to contend with me."

A purple orb flew from behind the girl's head—a fairy. "Yeah!" he affirmed. "You'll have to contend with her!"

"Well, this _is_ a surprise," Lisa said, grinning. "Another one!" She laughed and craned her head to peer at Heather. "We'll meet again, Heather—count on it!" She then suddenly fell from the roof, escaping.

The stranger lowered her weapon and brushed aside some hair. Heather and Selina watched the girl and fairy, dumbstruck.

"Um—uh—what the fuck?" said Heather plainly.

The girl turned to her, toting a rose. "Princess Heart," she said, "allow me to introduce myself. This is my fairy companion, Arthur, and I am Lady Heart."

Heather blinked stupidly. "Lady Heart?" she said. "What."

Margaret Holloway's office was a spacious room, uncluttered and neat. The windows were open, allowing in light and air; her office was clear, devoid of photographs or any trinkets. She was busy sorting through paperwork when the door opened.

"I see you're keeping up with your daily responsibilities," Michael Kaufmann said, smiling, before taking a seat opposite her.

"I take it you're here to tell me Leonard's dead," she said, not looking up. "Of course I already know."

"It's not him I'm concerned about," Kaufmann said, leaning back. "It's the chaos he's left in his wake. We know now that Dahlia has—a different idea about where to take this than we do."

"And?"

"And I propose we simply face facts." He cleared his throat. "She'll eliminate us and anyone else in the way. Now, if we were to pull out our own ace-in-the-hole—well, I think we can easily counter her."

"I've never heard you speak so boldly, Michael," Holloway said, looking up at him. She smiled. "In fact, I was waiting for you to make your move. Everything is prepared. All we have to do is see it through."

Kaufmann nodded, satisfied. "Excellent."

**END EPISODE 11**

**Events are escalating! As Heather deals with the toll of her being Princess Heart, she also is faced with the mystery of Lady Heart! Meanwhile, Margaret Holloway and Michael Kaufmann begin their plan to counter Dahlia Gillespie—but what will be the consequences?**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 12: The Villainous Crusade!"**

**Don't move that mouse!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	12. The Villainous Crusade!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 12: The Villainous Crusade!**

"Where are you going?"

Lisa watched lazily as Michael Kaufmann dressed himself, busily buttoning his shirt and cuffs. She lay naked under the sheets, her face half-hidden in pillow, red hair scattered about amidst white. The suite was a drab gray; outside, rain beat against the windows noisily.

"Unlike you," Kaufmann said, straightening his coat, "I actually have professional responsibilities. I can't afford to just lazy about all day."

"I'm not a bum," she said, giggling and propping her head up. "I have a terrific work ethic."

"I'm sure," he replied, glancing back at her with a fledgling smile. "But we _are_ running out of time, Lisa. We can't afford to keep wasting opportunities."

The woman groaned and turned over, throwing her arms out. "Princess Heart, Princess Heart!" she uttered theatrically. "It's always about little Princess Heart! What's so special about her, anyway? What makes her so important?"

"It's not the girl," he said, chuckling. "The girl has nothing to do with it. It's her _power_. What she has in her possession isn't even the full Seal of Metatron—it's just a piece of it. And even with just that piece, she has run through our ranks without so much as breaking a sweat. Now imagine having the full seal in your hands. What power we could wield!"

She was silent, looking out at the rain. "And what are we going to do with that power?"

"What are we going to do?" repeated Kaufmann, smiling. "Paradise, Lisa. You know that."

"'Paradise' is just a word," she said lowly. He laughed.

"Perhaps," said Kaufmann, producing something from within his coat and throwing it onto the bed. "Maybe this will help you become a little more productive."

Lisa sat up and hoisted the object: a thin, ratty doll. "What's this?"

"An experiment," Kaufmann told her. "Instead of summoning demons—why not create them?"

"Well, whatever." She lobbed the doll aside with a sigh. "I already told you. There was another one, in black. She made quick work of the nurses. Princess Heart is nothing compared to her."

"Careful now," Kaufmann said, smiling. "I can hear the resentment in your voice. I'm sure you haven't forgotten what happened to our dear Vincent?"

"As if I would turn myself into a demon," she said acidly. "All I'm saying is that this other one could pose a problem. If we can't even beat one Princess Heart, what makes you think we can beat two?"

"I wouldn't worry," replied Kaufmann, strolling over and caressing her hair. "We haven't lost yet. Soon both of them will understand the folly of their actions." He grinned. "And it could be you who shows them, Lisa."

"You're going to have to go home sometime, bitch," Eileen said, passing the bag of potato chips onto Heather from her place on the floor in front of the bed. The other girl lay up top on her belly, frowning at the television. She absently took the bag and pulled out some chips.

"Yeah, yeah," she drawled, munching on them. She scowled. "Shit, baby—these things are _salty_."

"You weren't complaining last night."

"Shut the fuck up. The jalapeño ones are better."

"They're too strong for me," Eileen replied, taking the bag back. "Hey, I was watching that! Turn it back."

"You were so not watching tha—eww, look at those jeans. Gross."

"Her ass is huge."

"Your ass is huge."

"Your _face_ is huge."

"Your face's _ass_ is huge."

"Slut, your ass will be mega huge after I'm done with it!" Eileen flew onto the bed and the two girls began wrestling with each other, tickling and bashing each other with pillows.

"Rape!" Heather screamed, laughing. "Rape! Oh, God, keep it away from me!"

"Choke on my pubes, sweet cheeks!" yelled Eileen triumphantly, beginning to lower her skirt before stopping. "Hold up—let me get my dildo!"

Heather flopped up, her brow furrowed. "You got a dildo? When?"

"Oh, you know," Eileen said, reaching underneath her bed. "Remember when we were going to be Peach and Daisy for Halloween that one time? I thought it would be fun."

"To have a dildo?"

"Yeah." She raised the cream-colored, drooping phallus, and Heather burst out laughing.

"Holy shit!" she giggled, falling back and covering her mouth. Eileen wagged it around, prompting even more laughter. Heather crawled towards it and traced the contours of the veins with a finger. "Jesus, it's so realistic." She reared back, apprehensive of the head swerving her way.

"Oh, dude, get a _load_ of this!" Eileen reached down and brought up a black, circular stand, into which she planted the phallus. "It's got a freakin' pump!"

"You're kidding."

"Nope—watch!" Eileen took a connected pump in her hand and started squeezing; the phallus straightened out, erect. Heather broke into another fit of laughter, but Eileen silenced her. "Hold on, it's not through yet!" She continued pumping more vigorously, and suddenly the phallus shot out a wad of whitish liquid into the air. Heather toppled over, convulsing.

"Synthetic semen!" she choked, holding back tears. Eileen joined in laughing, holding up two packets of similar liquid.

"Yeah, it even came with extra."

"Laugh my ass off," Heather said, taking one. "What's in this stuff—fructose, corn syrup—"

"It's just like soda, lol."

"Crap, Eileen. How much did this beast cost you?"

"I don't remember. Mom didn't mind, though."

"Shit." Heather gazed at the thing with amazement. "Have you used it?"

"Oh, nah. It kind of scares me."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Kind of sucks that we get stuck with a little pussy vagina."

"You think that way 'cause you're a lesbian," Eileen said. "Vaginas are tons better. We can put our pants on without having some ridiculous protrusion sticking up."

"That's true."

As they talked, neither noticed Selina touching down on the phallus, grimacing. "So—this is a dildo?"

Eileen turned to her, mouth hanging open. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, little fairy! We just soiled you!"

"It was bound to happen eventually," Heather said, reaching for the bag of potato chips, only to find it empty. "We ate 'em all," she told Eileen and glanced around at the salt covering the sheets. "And now your bed's super salty."

"That's just the way I like it!" Eileen cried, bounding up. "Want to go make some popcorn? I got the machine in the basement."

"Sure, let's do it."

Heather followed Eileen as she found the popcorn machine and brought it to the kitchen. It was vintage, a dusted red hallmark of better days. "We haven't used it in a while," she said while preparing it. "You mind grabbing some bowls?"

"I'm always grabbing your bowls," replied Heather as she snatched two from a cupboard. Selina floated between them, eyeing the machine suspiciously.

"You humans make the strangest things."

"Blame capitalism," Eileen said, glancing back. She poured in some kernels and butter and switched the machine on. All three said nothing, listening to the kernels pop. Eileen cleared her throat.

"Seriously, though. You're going to have to talk to him."

"I can't," Heather said quietly. "At least not yet. I can't face him."

Eileen turned to her, leaning against the counter and averting her gaze. "How long do you think he's known?"

Heather shrugged. "I don't know. I don't understand how he _could_ know—it doesn't make sense. And then this Lady Heart comes out of nowhere and then disappears—it's all just a little too much right now."

"The Order had the rest of the Seal of Metatron," Selina said. "She shouldn't be able to use the power of Princess Heart, unless—"

"Why would someone from the Order help me, though?" asked Heather. "Lisa had me. She could've just let me go down."

"I didn't recognize the fairy with her, either," Selina told them. "I don't know any Arthurs."

"So she's like your Racer X," Eileen said. "The cooler, more badass older brother."

"I guess you could say that," Heather replied, mustering a smile. "But why did she show up now? Why didn't Dad say anything before?"

"Maybe he was waiting for you," Eileen said. Upon hearing the ding of the popcorn, she raised the lid and reached in to scoop some out into a bowl. "I mean, it's sort of one of those things, you know? Maybe the other day he got worried when we all brought you in."

"He didn't even seem all that surprised about it," Heather said. "It was like he accepted it, or something—like he was fine with it. If he knows I'm Princess Heart, he knows about all the demons, too. All those excuses I've been giving him—he knows they're just BS."

Eileen handed her a bowl, and she took it, rummaging through the popcorn with a hand. "The worst part about it is that I've been lying right to his face."

"I'm sure he gets why," Eileen said, throwing some popcorn into her mouth. "He knows it's a big deal."

"It certainly makes things more complicated," Selina said, resting atop Heather's head. "No one was supposed to find out!"

"And now it seems like everybody knows," Heather said. "Even the Order knows my secret. That's why they went after you, Eileen, and that's why everyone who knows is in danger. Townshend and his friends, too—they just don't _get it_. I can't protect everyone."

"Well, maybe you don't have to," Eileen replied. "This Lady Heart person could be here to help you."

Heather narrowed her eyes, frowning. "Maybe, but it's still fishy." She gazed down at the popcorn, contemplative, and then set the bowl aside on the counter. "You're right," she said. "I can't hide out here forever. I should go."

Eileen regarded her with concern. "Are you sure? You know you can stay as long as you want."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "But I've got to do it eventually. And I guess I also have to deal with Townshend and his Scooby Gang." She wore a tired smile, adding, "As much as I'd rather not."

Eileen returned the smile, spreading her arms. "Come here, bitch." She and Heather shared a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, you know that?" Eileen asked, pulling away.

"Yeah, I know." Heather jerked a thumb back towards the door. "Anyway, I'm taking off. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. See you later, Selina."

"Goodbye, Eileen."

Eileen watched them leave, Heather slipping on her jacket as she went and the fairy diving into her pocket. Outside, the sun was out shining, the sky a deep blue. Heather let out a sigh and walked out onto the sidewalk, stuffing her hands in her pockets, lost in thought, when a voice hailed her.

She turned to see a girl across the street, leaning against a lamppost, hands similarly in the pockets of her black denim jacket. Underneath that was a buttoned crimson blouse and jeans. Heather met the girl's piercing blue gaze, her face framed by long black hair.

Heather turned in her direction, defensive. "You're—"

"Heather," the other girl greeted. "We've been waiting for you." A flash of violet flourished behind her as her fairy rounded her head.

"Would you like one?"

The girl held up the tray of nachos to Heather, all of them drenched in cheese. She shook her head.

"Alright." The girl leaned back on the bench, admiring the tranquility of the park. A tree loomed behind them, casting a wide girth of shade. She bit into a nacho, savoring the saltiness.

"What do you want with me?" Heather asked. She watched the girl calmly continue eating. Heather bit her lip in frustration. "Answer me!"

"Why don't you sit down?" queried the girl, looking up at her. Something in her face struck Heather, some hidden darkness; she quickly sat. The girl smiled, licking her lips of cheese.

"Alessa," she said. "Alessa Gillespie. It's nice to finally meet you, Heather."

"How do you even know who I am?" Heather demanded. "Who _are_ you?"

"How _wouldn't_ I know who you are?" countered Alessa, ignoring the other question. "Princess Heart. I've been watching you, waiting for the opportunity to show myself."

"Watching me?"

"Yes." She chewed on another nacho. "We're the same. We both have the ability to tap into the power of Princess Heart."

"That's impossible!" Selina flew out, fuming. "There is only one Fairy Princess!"

"Yeah, yeah," the other fairy, Arthur, yawned from his place on Alessa's shoulder. "Give us another explanation."

"I believe you," Heather said. "After all, you did save me."

Alessa raised her right arm, revealing a bracelet around her wrist. Glimmering upon it was a small crystal heart. "I can't explain it exactly, but the Seal of Metatron reacted to me and transformed into this bracelet. I see it's a pocket mirror for you."

"Yeah." Heather raised it, examining it thoughtfully. "But what does that mean? That anyone can use it?"

"No," said Alessa, shaking her head. "Only those who are Fairy Princesses can. The Order attempted to bond some of their own with the other fragments of the seal as a means to counter you, but every attempt ended in failure."

Heather stared at her, wide-eyed. "How do you know that?"

"Because I was once one of them," Alessa said simply. "I was raised to follow their teachings, to practice their faith—but they are a twisted people. They wish to manifest their so-called 'Paradise,' but all that will do is turn this world into a haven for demons. Humanity will perish."

Heather said nothing, unable to conjure the words. Selina sat upon her shoulder, similarly struck. "The Seal of Metatron—is a key to the demon realm?"

"The Otherworld," Alessa said. "You fairies and the demons come from the same place, it's simply divided into two halves. Order and chaos. I stole a piece of the seal once they began recovering them, and then I made my move. I managed to free some of the fairies, but not all. Arthur is one of the ones who got away."

"That's right," he said. "And I'm sticking to her. She's been kicking all sorts of demon ass while you've been just sitting around, twiddling your thumbs."

Heather looked to her. "Is that true?"

"The Order is centered in my hometown," she said, "Silent Hill. Things have gotten worse and worse—the energies of the Otherworld have begun to corrupt the entire town. It exists in a state of dimensional flux, transitioning back and forth. Soon there will be nothing left, and the Otherworld will begin to spill over, eventually finding its way here and across the whole world."

"This is all a little too heavy," Heather said, drawing a breath. "Give me a second."

Alessa bit into a nacho, sucking on the cheese. "I can't do it alone, Heather. That's why I've finally come to you. You've stood against them—lend me your strength. We can defeat them if we fight together."

"Hold on a minute," Heather said, rising. "I'm just—I'm just a teenager! Half the time, I don't even know what I'm doing! You have to cut me some slack, here! You want me to save the world?"

"If we don't end it now," Alessa said, "they'll keep coming for you. They will hunt the both of us down until for the rest of our lives. They won't stop, Heather. How much longer do you want to keep doing this—living in fear from day to day? They'll go after your friends, your family. They won't give up."

Heather gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, sighing. "I—I don't know. I'm not ready."

Alessa dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin. "We're the only ones with the power to do this, Heather."

"I know that!" she cried. "But if I go—I—"

Alessa stood up and dumped the empty tray into a nearby trashcan. "Take some time to think it over, then," she said. "When you've decided, place this rose on your front porch." She withdrew a splendid red rose from her jacket and placed it in Heather's hand. "I'll be waiting for your answer."

"You might want to make it quick, little princess," Arthur snipped. "We don't have a lot of time, you know."

"I have—I have some things I need to take care of," Heather said. "I'll give you your answer, but just let me do what I've got to do first. Okay?"

"So be it," Alessa said, stepping back. "I'll see you, then."

"Yeah. Come on, Selina."

"Princess—"

"Let's go."

Heather turned and walked off, leaving Alessa alone in the vacant park. She stood still, feeling the gentle breeze and listening to the rustle of the trees. Across from her on the other side, a woman cleared her throat.

"Well, it's about time," Lisa said, smirking as she rose up from her bench. Alessa looked over to her as the woman walked out into the center of the park. "I didn't want to interrupt," she said. "Alessa. I'm not surprised."

"I'm not interested in fighting you," Alessa said. "Just walk away, Lisa."

Lisa laughed, shaking her head. "You know, I think I understand how Vincent felt now—it's that attitude! You're so full of yourself, aren't you? You always have been—always the golden girl, always the favorite. Everyone always gave you whatever you wanted on silver platters. I guess I see why now, Fairy Princess."

"I didn't ask for this," Alessa said. "You're not my enemy."

"But you're mine," Lisa said, "oh, yes you are. I don't give a damn about the Order—all I care about is wiping that grin off your face. Maybe for once I'll get the attention I deserve, huh?"

"Lisa—"

"Enough talking," she said, removing two vials from her jacket and splashing their contents onto the grass. "Let's see how you do, Lady Heart."

Dark, writhing figures emerged from the ground, encircling Alessa—nurses. "Looks like she means business," Arthur said, and Alessa clicked her tongue.

"Fine, then."

She threw up her hand, the bracelet around it jingling. The crystal heart shone with a brilliant red light—"_Transform_!"

A crimson blanket of light surrounded the girl before expanding out in a violent explosion of rose petals. The nurses were torn to shreds, the petals tearing through their bodies. Lisa grimaced at the lone figure remaining in her dark uniform, raven's hair billowing out behind her.

"Things are finally getting interesting," she said, chuckling, as more nurses arose from voids of darkness. Alessa raised a rose to meet them; it bloomed, alighting, and in its place was a decorated rapier. The nurses rushed her, and she ran to meet them, deftly slashing one in half down the middle. She flicked her wrist, gracefully impaling another with a powerful thrust. A nurse circled around to her backside, prepared to strike, but Alessa threw out her free hand, releasing a blooming rose that exploded in the nurse's face. Overhead, the sky grew dark with storm clouds.

More nurses appeared. Alessa darted from one to another, hewing them in twos and threes, her rapier moving as through silk. She raised her other hand, the rose held therein blooming into a black whip. She lashed out, catching a nurse by the neck; with a curt jerk of the wrist, its head flew off, landing in the grass.

Lisa watched on nervously as Alessa easily defeated her nurses. Alessa touched down, unflinching as the horde of nurses surrounded her, convulsing with each motion. Her steely eyes moved from enemy to enemy, assessing them, when suddenly they glanced down at the darkness opening up beneath her. She leapt up gracefully into the air, dropping a blooming rose behind her; it exploded, leveling the nurses.

She landed, pushing back her hair as she stood straight and faced Lisa. Thunder boomed, precluding the rain. It poured down and soaked the two of them. Alessa coiled her whip and raised her rapier to Lisa. The other woman laughed.

"Of course it'll take more than that to bring you down," she said, reaching into her jacket and removing an old doll. "It's time for the gloves to come off, Alessa. Are you ready?"

Alessa stood her ground, saying nothing, and Lisa dropped the doll onto the grass before dousing it with a vial of black liquid. "I should stand back," she murmured, retreating as the doll began to flop up and down, its tiny form bulging and expanding. The arms grew out, long and spindly, as did the legs. The small dress fell in tatters to the grass, and the head ballooned in size. Lisa looked on fearfully, surprised at the creature assuming shape before her.

"Just what have they done?"

Even Alessa instinctively took a step back, watching the tall, lanky porcelain monstrosity straighten out, its mouth opening in a loud, toothy screech. "Scarlet," Lisa said, regaining her composure. "That's not a bad name, right? Scarlet, kill her!"

The doll roared and advanced towards Alessa, imposing in its length and stature. "What type of demon is this?" mumbled Alessa, raising her rapier for an attack when Scarlet swung out with a claw. Alessa jumped back, barely avoiding the swipe, but the monster was already lunging at her for a second strike. She ducked, the claw instead ripping cleanly through a nearby tree.

Alessa landed, turning the rapier in her hand, and slashed. The blade clanked off Scarlet's hide harmlessly, leaving the girl open for a counterattack; she was batted across the park, crashing into a bench.

She recovered immediately, flipping up and wiping a smidge of blood off her chin. Arthur hovered beside her, worried. "Alessa—"

"Hush," she said, lashing out the whip. She swung at the oncoming monster, smacking it back. The whip slapped at the porcelain, driving it away, when suddenly Scarlet grabbed onto the weapon and pulled. Alessa flew towards it, but with a jerk of her waist she actually landed atop the demon. She looped the whip around Scarlet's neck, pulling it tight, planting her boots on the monster's back. Scarlet flailed about and, with a powerful lunge, bucked Alessa off. She hit the grass hard, but three roses fell down upon the creature's head, detonating.

She stood up, watching tentatively as the smoke cleared. Lisa peeked out from behind a tree, scowling, when something stirred within the smoke. Scarlet roared, hunched over, blackened with ash, pieces of its porcelain hide dropping and revealing red, bleeding muscle. It lowered, hunkering down like a spider. Lisa elated.

"It's incredible," she breathed. "There's nothing like it!"

Alessa faced the demon grimly, brandishing her rapier and whip. "Maybe we should run away," Arthur said. "This thing's too much to handle."

"No," said Alessa sternly. "If it's so tenacious, then Lisa won't be able to control it. It'll run amok." She ground her teeth. "I have to stop it here."

Scarlet attacked. It sprang forward, crawling and scurrying. Alessa turned and ran, leading it away. She jumped atop parked cars, lightly and gracefully bounding from one to the next. The demon followed, totaling each vehicle as it crashed down. Alessa glanced back and, undeterred, threw her whip out at a lamppost; she swung up and around to land on a nearby rooftop. Scarlet gave chase, climbing up the side of the building, with each move shattering a window or puncturing stone.

Alessa looked down at it over the edge of the roof and launched several roses. The creature avoided each one, swiftly moving from side to side. With a mighty jump, it cleared the remaining distance and landed atop Alessa, pinning her down by her arms and legs. It screeched, jaw unhinging, poised to tear off the girl's head. Steely-faced, Alessa twisted her hand around—her rapier caught the exposed flesh of Scarlet's arm and severed it.

The monster roared again, this time in pain, doubling over as the stump of its arm spewed out a geyser of blood. Alessa flipped up and charged the demon, impaling it through the underside and plummeting with it off the rooftop. Scarlet landed on the street, dead, Alessa kneeling upon it, hands clenched around the hilt of her weapon. She stood, the demon dissolving into darkness at her feet.

"You did it!" Arthur cried. "You killed it!"

Alessa was quiet, breathing raggedly and swaying on her feet. She affirmed herself and looked back to the park, glimpsing Lisa. The woman scowled angrily and was gone.

Alessa sighed, her uniform disappearing in wisps of faint red light. "Shouldn't we go after her?" Arthur asked. "Finish her off?"

"It's all right," she said, looking back at what remained of Scarlet. A single, withered rose lay in the splatters of blood and dissolving blackness. "She's not the one responsible for all of this."

Heather returned home, wet from the rain. She discarded her jacket and threw it onto the sofa, sighing. "What are you planning to do?" asked Selina, and the girl only shrugged.

"The only thing I can do, I guess. I have to go with her." She looked down at the rose in her hand and then ran a hand through her hair. "What a mess."

A bark caught her attention, and Chip came running towards her. "Hey, boy!" she exclaimed, hugging him and ruffling his fur. "How was your day today? I hope you're not mad at me for sleeping over at Eileen's."

He simply licked her face, and she giggled. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Has Dad been feeding you? He forgets a lot, doesn't he?" She headed over to his food dish, grabbing the bag of food from the counter, when Harry called out to her.

"I was wondering when you'd get back."

Heather froze at the sound of his voice. Slowly she turned, stunned, unable to say anything. Harry approached her, trembling, and pulled her into a hug. She broke down instantly, nestling against his chest, crying. He held her and gently stroked her hair.

"It's okay," he cooed. "It's okay. Cheryl."

"Dad," she sobbed weakly. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I'm so, so sorry!"

"You haven't done anything wrong," he said, holding her at arms' length. "You haven't. I'm proud of you, Cheryl, do you hear me? I'm proud of you. There's nothing to be upset about. It's okay."

"But—but—"

"Listen to me," he said, his voice grave, stern. "I need to tell you something, Cheryl. I need you to know the truth."

He looked into her eyes, blurry with tears, and smiled serenely. "I'm not your father, Cheryl. I'm not your real dad."

**END EPISODE 12**

**He had always been there for her, guiding her when no else would, caring when no one else cared—but now Heather is alone. **

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 13: A Father's Love!"**

**Farewell, Harry Mason.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	13. A Father's Love!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 13: A Father's Love!**

"It's just so not fair," Laura moaned, dragging the glue stick across another magazine cutout. "If you guys can't go to school, then why do they make us go?"

She knelt on one side of the coffee table, pasting pictures onto the poster board splayed out before them. Elle sat on another side, snipping out another photo, and on the adjacent side was her younger sister, Nora. They were settled in the middle of the Holloway household den, the fan above them spinning mildly.

"It's not permanent, you know," Elle said, flipping through the pages of a magazine, in search of another picture. "Once everything's settled, we'll be back, just like all of you."

"But it's still not fair!" grumbled Laura. "Why does that fartface James get to stay home all day and I can't?"

Nora giggled at the comment; Elle simply shook her head. "Sometimes I just don't understand how you two are brother and sister," she said. "If I ever heard James call someone a 'fartface,' I'd probably have a heart attack."

"He gives me heart attacks everyday!"

"That's probably 'cause you love him so much," Nora said with a laugh.

Laura gagged theatrically. "Yeah, right! Gross!" She turned to Elle, her ponytail swishing dramatically behind her. "And did ya' hear he wants to date _Mary_? She deserves someone a lot better than James!"

"I think they're cute," Nora said, and Elle nodded.

"Yeah. They go well together."

"Maybe 'cause James is just one big pussy! He's like a girl himself!"

"That's not very befitting language for a young lady."

The three girls turned to see Margaret Holloway enter from the kitchen, briefcase at her side and coat slung over her arm. "I swear it wasn't me," Elle said, smiling. "Are you going to the office?"

"Yes," Margaret replied with a sigh. "Work just keeps piling up, it seems. There are more and more cases that need reviewing." She shrugged. "But it's my job."

"I was going to go see a movie with Alex later tonight," Elle said. "Are you going to be late, or—"

"I should be back in time to keep Nora company," Margaret said. "You go and have fun." She walked over and patted Laura on the head. "And you've certainly got fire, Laura. Maybe you'll be a lawyer one day—you'd make a good one."

"I want to be a movie star," Laura said, "or maybe a rapper! It would be more fun than _that_."

Margaret laughed. "You're probably right. Anyway, I'll see you later, girls."

"Yeah."

"Bye, Mom!"

As she walked out, Laura returned to slamming a picture onto the poster. "_Any_way—about Mary. Have you talked to her lately, Elle? It's been a while since we've all seen her!"

Elle shook her head, her eyes hard. "I haven't heard anything," she said. "According to Alex, everything's been pretty quiet. But it's weird—Mary and I hardly go a couple of days without talking. I am getting worried."

"Do you think everything's okay?" Nora asked, and Laura snorted.

"Of course everything's okay!" she exclaimed. "Don't be stupid!"

3 3 3

Outside, Margaret sat in the driver's seat of her car, cell phone cradled against her ear. On the other end of the line, a gruff male voice sounded.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Michael," she said. "Having a good day, I presume?"

"Oh, it's you," Kaufmann responded, his voice crackling through the receiver. "What is it?"

"It should be obvious," she said. "Do you have it?"

A pause. "Yes," he answered. "It wasn't easy to get a hold of. Now, more than ever, it pays to be prudent."

"Good," she remarked, holding up a glass case, wherein a centipede rested on a stick above a grove of leaves. She gazed upon it thoughtfully. "I thought I'd also let you know that I'm prepared for phase two of our little experiment."

"Hopefully you fail, as well," Kaufmann chuckled. "Lisa wasn't very pleased after what happened. I doubt she's looking forward to be outdone."

"Don't worry," Margaret said. "I have no interest in killing either of them." She smirked. "They're our guinea pigs, after all."

3 3 3

Heather sat beside Eileen at the Happy Burger, snuggled in a booth. She held up the rose given to her by Alessa, examining it in the light of the window. Eileen watched her worriedly.

"Hey, Heather—you okay?"

The girl lowered the flower, pensive, and nodded. "Yeah, don't worry. I'm just thinking."

"About what your dad said?"

"Well, the whole thing, you know." She sighed. "I've been wondering why I'm the one able to do this. Why am _I_ Princess Heart?"

"It's 'cause you're a real cunt," Eileen said, trying a faint grin. Heather smiled sheepishly.

"I'm not even my father's daughter," she said quietly. "Everything 'till now—my whole life—it's all been a lie, Eileen."

Eileen shook her head. "That's not true," she replied, "and you know it. Come on. You're still you, bitch. You're still Heather."

Heather turned to her friend, smiling sadly. "Eileen, my name—"

"Hey. Guess who's on time."

The two girls looked up to see Henry and James standing beside the booth, the former smirking sloppily. He thrust a finger in Heather's direction. "It's reckoning time, Mason."

James offered them a reassuring smile. "He's a little excited; that's all."

"Yeah," Heather said. "Go ahead and sit down."

They did so. Henry leaned forward, linking his hands under his chin. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked bluntly. "Where's the fire, Mason? You sound like someone cut off your balls."

"Look, I'm not here to play games," she said. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, okay? That's the deal."

"Are you sure?" James glanced between her and Eileen, noting their downcast expressions. "_Is_ something wrong?"

"Forget it, James," Henry said coolly. "It's not our business whether these chicks are on their periods or not."

Eileen stifled a giggle, and Heather cleared her throat. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

Henry grunted and shrugged. "It's simple, Mason. Are you Princess Heart?"

She stared at him, incredulous. "What type of question is that? You already know."

"I need to hear you say it," he said. His eyes, grave and hard, met hers. "I want it out in the open."

She shrugged. "Fine," she said, her voice low. "I'm Princess Heart."

"Princess!" Selina whispered, poking her head out from under the table. "Are you—"

"It's okay," Heather said, keeping Henry's gaze. "I owe him that much, I guess."

Henry leaned back, exhaling, and folded his arms over his chest. "You have no _idea_ how long I've been waiting to hear that."

"Whatever," Heather said lowly. "Look, things are different now, Townshend. That's why I agreed to talk to you. Things have changed."

"Changed?" James asked. "What happened?"

"It's complicated," she said, averting her gaze. "The point is that you aren't responsible for this. You should just leave it alone."

Henry stared at her, unblinking, and then coughed out a rough chuckle. "Son of a bitch," he laughed, sliding his hands forward. "Why I am not _fucking_ surprised?" He slammed his fists on the table, stewing angrily. "You get us all fired up, make us come over here—and by the way, we were pissing our pants in excitement—and then you fucking dump this bullshit on us again!"

"Henry," Eileen said, clearing her throat. "It's—"

The deathly gaze he sent her way silenced her immediately. He turned back to Heather, eyes fiery. "So? What's your excuse now, Mason? I'm all ears!"

"It's just—it's different now," she repeated thickly, and he scoffed.

"Oh, it's so _different_—it's so _fucking_ out of my league—stop yanking us by the dicks and _tell us the truth_!" He sat back, furious, and took a steadying breath. After a moment, Heather sighed and broke the tense silence.

"The people who have been doing this," she said, "the Order—they don't just want to rule the world, or anything like that. They want to create some sort of paradise."

"Paradise?" James said. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "I'm not really sure. All I know is that it's no paradise. If they get what they want, the whole world will be infested with demons. It'll be a massacre."

Henry shrugged nonchalantly. "So? What's your point?"

Heather glared at him pointedly. "_My point_ is that you can't do anything. You've managed to trip around this thing because you were lucky, Townshend, but that luck won't last forever."

"You sound like Jamesy here," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "Listen, I don't care about the danger. Those Order assholes are going to pay for everything they've done. Now, obviously I can't do shit against those monsters—_but you can_. So that's why I'm going to help you, and that's why James is, too, and Alex and Elle and Eileen. Jesus, don't you get it?"

"Of course I get it," she said. "But what am I supposed to do if one of you gets hurt? How am I supposed to live with myself?"

"We'll live with it," Henry said. "None of us think this is going to be all peaches and rainbows. We're making the choice, not you."

Eileen smiled lightly at him, and beside her Heather let out a long sigh, defeated. "Well, fine then, do what you want."

"No reason to be so down," Henry told her. "We'll make it worth your while."

"We just want the truth," James said quietly. "We got wrapped up in all of this just like you did. You've got to understand that."

"Sure," Heather said, "but you have a _choice_. I have to deal with this because I'm the one they want. I'm Princess Heart." She prodded at the rose with a finger. "And now I've got to accept that I'm the only one who can put a stop to this. If I don't, they'll just keep coming."

"My kindergarten teacher put me on restroom duty for the week once," Henry said. "I had to make sure that whoever went to go piss or shit signed out—and you better goddamn believe I made sure they did. I didn't bitch about it because I didn't have a choice. I had to do it."

He leaned forward, grimacing. "So stop your whining and _deal with it_."

"It's so easy for you because you're not the one who has to fight!" she spat at him. "You're not the one who has to worry! People aren't going to die on your watch!"

"They already have!" he lashed back. "I'm prepared to deal with it, Mason—so why aren't you? Why aren't you willing to drop your balls?"

"Because I'm afraid!" she said, falling back. "I'm scared, okay? I have to fight an army of those things!"

"You have nothing to be scared of," Henry said quietly, sitting back, himself. "You're the one who has the power to fight them in the first place. You can't get hurt if you're willing to man up."

"I've told you a million times, it's not me I'm worried about." She let out a breath. "If I fuck up, people are going to die. I'm just some teenage chick who doesn't even know what she's doing here, man. How am I supposed to save the world?"

"I think what Henry's trying to say," James spoke up, "is that you don't have to do it alone. We've all got things and people we don't want to lose. You're not the only one who's got a stake in this."

Eileen smiled and nudged her friend. "They're right, you slut. Let's beat the shit out of those motherfuckers together, OG-style." She put her hand out over the table, grinning. "So, how 'bout it?"

"Yeah," Henry said, shaking his head and chuckling, "OG-style." He placed his hand over hers, and James followed.

"No going back now," he said, looking to Heather, and she finally relented.

"Fine."

"Don't forget about me," Selina said curtly, dropping down and flashing a thumbs-up.

"Alright!" Eileen exclaimed. "We triumph together, or we die alone! We're the last hope for humanity—the last bastion of defense against these unearthly no-dicks! We're the PH Krew, with a capital '_K_—'"

Heather tried to move her hand away. "Okay, I think we—"

"—the guardians of the earth, upholding truth and justice and love and freedom—"

"Eileen—"

"—fighting to protect all that's dear to us and everything that's worth living for—"

"Eileen, we get it—"

"—show those assholes how we do it _down_—"

"Enough!" Henry snapped, jerking his hand back. "We get it."

Eileen looked to him, flustered, and giggled. "lol, sorry. I got carried away."

Henry rolled his eyes. "So, now that we've finally taken care of that," he said, "what's the plan of action?"

Heather held up the rose, angling it in the light of the window. "Now we rendezvous with my Racer X."

Eileen smiled and held a napkin over Henry's eyes. "But what about your Tuxedo Mask?" she asked seductively, licking her lips.

Heather groaned in annoyance. "Eileen, hurry up and go finger yourself in the bathroom so we can leave."

Henry batted the napkin out of his face and exchanged a nervous glance with James.

3 3 3

"I _was_ wondering why you made us meet you at that Happy Burger," James said as he stepped off the platform and onto the subway car. "I guess it was more remote?"

"I figured too many people had seen us around at the other one," Heather replied, moving in among some other passengers. "Sorry if it was trouble."

"Nah," Henry said from his seat, arms crossed and leg drumming. "It's not like we had to come _all_ the way to North Ashfield. No big deal."

Heather shrugged and sat across from him and Eileen. James took an adjacent seat, eyeing the other passengers as the car began to move. The group sat in awkward silence, listening to the periodic thump of the tracks.

Sneakily, Eileen scooted closer to Henry. "_So_," she cooed, looking to him with a wide, sloppy grin, "what's up?"

"Just the perpetual stick through my ass," he grunted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "And I have a giant-ass headache, to boot. The pains of youth, eh, Jamesy?"

"Well," James said, glancing at them, "at least you've got your hair."

"True," Henry said, running his fingers through his bangs.

Eileen reached over and grabbed a clump of his hair, pulling it up. "You should cut it," she said. "Show off some of that handsome face. And shave, too."

Henry swatted her hand away in aggravation. "Jesus! Who are you, my mother?"

"You are looking a little worse for wear," James remarked with a smile. "The grunge look's running out of fashion, you know."

"As if I know what fucking color's the new goddamn black," Henry grumbled, mopping his face. "I just throw on whatever's closet when I get out of bed. These could be the same jeans I've been wearing all week, for fuck's sake."

"You're such a vagabond," Eileen giggled. "I wouldn't mind washing your clothes if your mom doesn't."

Henry scooted away from her to the edge of the seat. "Keep your pants on."

Heather watched them contentedly, a light smile upon her face. Selina flew onto her shoulder. "Why don't you join them, Princess?" she asked.

"I want to," Heather said quietly, "but I can't. The fact is that I was lying to them the entire time."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to Silent Hill on my own," she said, glancing at the fairy. "I'm not going to drag anyone else into this mess."

"Princess—"

The subway car suddenly shook violently, the lights flickering erratically. "What the fuck was that?" Henry demanded angrily, looking up towards the ceiling. Amongst the other passengers excited chattering broke out, but it quickly subsided as everyone stood still, awaiting another blow.

"It sounded almost—like something landed," James murmured. "Do you think something hit us?"

"What the fuck's going to hit us cramped down here?" Henry argued, and, as if in answer, the car trembled again, this time more violently. "Oh, suck my balls," Henry muttered bitterly.

Heather followed something above with her eyes over the confusion and chaos. "I can feel it," she said. "It's a demon."

Selina bobbed beside her head. "It's a strong one, Princess!"

"Well, it picked the wrong day to screw with me," she said, drawing the pocket mirror. She turned to the others. "You guys hold the fort down, okay?"

"What are you going to do?" Eileen asked in fright before the realization dawned on her. "One of them?"

"Just go and kill it!" Henry hissed at her.

Heather nodded and quickly ran for the back of the train, rushing past other astounded passengers. James, Henry, and Eileen watched her disappear into another car before turning to themselves. Another blow jolted the train.

"Oh, fuck off!" Henry yelled.

Meanwhile, Heather exploded out of the last car, just stopping short of diving into the tracks. She backed up into the train, air buffeting her face from all sides, drew a breath, and flicked the pocket mirror open. "_Heart power_!"

Pink light illuminated the tunnel briefly, and Princess Heart emerged on the roof of the train, peeling her eyes at the swooshing darkness. "Where is it?" she whispered, tense, when something lashed out from above. She rolled away, just barely evading the whip-like appendage. She looked up and saw a monstrosity crawling along the top of the tunnel—a lean, jumbled mass of torsos and hands, melded together like a centipede.

"Holy sh—"

The heads screeched, and a jet of dark liquid flew Heather's way. She kicked away at the last moment, some of the stuff scathing her boot and searing away the leather. The rest of the acid sunk into the metal of the train, burning and corroding, leaving a gaping hole in the roof.

"Will this mend?" Heather asked, prodding at the burnt portion of her boot with a finger. "Well, whatever." She looked up as the creature crashed down and erected itself, revealing its disgusting multitude of breasts, heads, and arms. Heather gritted her teeth, the gold and silver pipes materializing in her hands. "Let's rumble, bitch."

The monster lunged at her, swiping with its hands. Heather deftly dodged each attack before returning with a swipe of her own; the gold pipe, engulfed in light, came down and lopped off one of the demon's arms. It reared back in pain, screeching, black blood gushing from the wound.

"How 'bout that?" Heather grinned, propping her hands on her hips. "You want to keep dancing, 'cause we—" The monster swung around, its giant tail knocking Heather across the expanse of the train. She rolled off the edge but managed to grab on, losing one of her pipes to the tracks below.

"What have I told you about being so cocky?" Selina buzzed in her ear.

"Oh, shut up," said Heather as she climbed back up. "I've got this." She ducked, avoiding another discharge of acid as it splashed onto the tunnel wall. "Take this, you overgrown shit!" She lobbed her remaining silver pipe at the demon, catching it in its main head and stunning it, and then dashed around to its backside, wrapped her arms around its width, and performed a mighty suplex, crashing the creature through the roof of the train car and dumping it inside.

Below, James and Eileen tried fruitlessly to calm down the passengers.

"I don't see why you're even bothering," Henry said offhandedly, sticking a finger in his ear. "I mean, you can't tame the human beast."

"Why can't you be just a little optimistic?" Eileen asked back, shouldering a crying baby as its mother screamed hysterically.

"I _am_ being optimistic," Henry responded. "At least we're not racing to our deaths, or anything like that."

"You're really not helping!" James exclaimed. "Listen, this train has got to stop. Why haven't they pulled the brakes?"

"Hell if I know," Henry said. "But I'll go ask, you know, why not, just to see—"

The ceiling of the car caved in, the demon landing right beside him amidst wiring and metal. "Oh, fuck!" Henry cried, crawling away as the creature lurched up, the hands covering its main mouth parting in a terrible scream.

"What _is_ that thing?" a man shouted from somewhere behind them.

"It's the stuff of nightmares," Eileen said, hugging the crying baby to her. "It's something that shouldn't have ever existed! It's evil!"

The demon screeched again and discharged a stream of acid out into the huddled group. "Get down!" James yelled, but the acid doused several people, burning their clothes away and eating at their skin. They collapsed, writhing and screaming in agony.

Heather appeared at the edge of the hole in the ceiling. "Eileen! Move all these people to the next car!" She dropped down onto the demon and grabbed its topmost hands, holding them away and grappling with the beast.

"You heard her!" Eileen cried, turning to the others. "Move! Get to the next car!"

"You better fucking kill that thing quick, Mason!" Henry hollered at her, and she sneered at him.

"Just make yourself useful and stop this damn train, Townshend!"

"Yeah, yeah, I was going to do it, anyway!" He turned and ran, leaving her to contend with the demon. It bucked her off, but she quickly bounced onto her feet and faced the monster.

"You know, you're starting to really tick me off!" she exclaimed. "Time to go to sleep!" She held out her hand, the Heart Rod appearing in a flash of magenta. The creature hurried for her, preparing for a final attack. Heather twirled the Heart Rod, scattering glimmers of pink light.

"Sorry! By the power of the heart and true love's light, I'm sending you _back to hell_!"

**!****中心力****!**

A magnificent pink heart erupted from the rod and consumed the demon, exploding in a brilliant display of dazzling greens, blues, and reds. A cute keychain featuring an anthropomorphic centipede clicked to her feet. She picked it up and dangled it, contemplative.

At the front of the train, Henry and James came up behind the conductor, who glanced back at them in panic. "Who are you? What the hell is going on back there?"

"You might want to call ground control, or whoever you've got," Henry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We've got a pretty big emergency on our hands."

"Haven't you put the brakes on yet?" James asked, and the conductor shook his head.

"Something must have happened, because they're locked! At this rate, if we don't stop, we _will_ crash!"

"Well, good thing we've got a fucking superhero on board," Henry said. "Which of these piece-of-shit buttons is for the intercom?" The conductor pointed to it quickly; Henry slammed it with a fist and grabbed the microphone. "Hey, Mason, you listening? We need you to stop the train, so you better get your goddamn spider webs ready!"

Heather looked up at the sound of Henry's voice and sighed. "Fine, I'll get it," she said, "but you guys definitely owe me for this one." She jumped up onto the roof and ran down the length of the train before leaping off to meet it.

"Oh, my God!" the conductor cried, but Henry patted him on the back.

"Chill out, man, and pull on those fucking brakes!"

He did, and Heather planted her feet firmly and hit the train head-on, pushing back with all the force she could possibly muster. The train rocked, the wheels burning against the tracks, and, slowly, it came to a halt. With a final metallic groan, the train stopped.

"They did it!" Eileen cried from her place in the next car over, still cradling the baby to her bosom. "Fuck yeah, how boss is that?" The baby coughed, gasping, and Eileen held it away to find a splotch of green on her blouse. She groaned.

Outside in the tunnel, Heather backed away, swaying on her feet, and shared a weak thumbs-up with Henry and James.

"Who is that?" the conductor asked breathlessly, and Henry chuckled.

"That's Princess Heart."

3 3 3

"Heather? You home?" Harry nudged the door close with his foot, toting a bag of groceries between his arms. The house was quiet, but in a bedroom beyond, he spotted Chip's wagging tail. He smiled and set the bag onto the counter.

"I'm making spaghetti tonight," he said, his voice carrying. "That sound good? I figured we could really talk—about what's been going on." He turned to the room, eyes narrowed. "Heather? Did you hear me?"

A light laugh reached him and instantly set his nerves on fire. He gripped the edge of the countertop hard, staring with trepidation as a woman emerged from the bedroom cradling the dog in her arms. Chip was oddly submissive against her bosom, his muzzle on her shoulder. She was young, Harry's age, wearing a long black gown, her feet bare. Her hair was a mild blonde, stopping just short of her neck.

She smiled.

"Hello, Harry."

He found his voice at last. "Dahlia."

She patted the dog a final time before letting him down to the floor where he remained anxious, wary of her. She gazed about at the den and kitchen, her smile never wavering. "I see you're doing well," she said. "I liked your last book."

"You always did," he said quietly. "What are you doing here, Dahlia?"

"You should already know," she told him. "I've come to take her. It's time."

"And you should already know I'm not going to hand over to you." He shuffled back, threw open a drawer, and removed a pistol from within. He cocked it and aimed straight between her eyes. "Get out."

"Oh, Harry," she laughed, shaking her head, "oh, Harry, Harry—are you really going to shoot me? Can you even bring yourself to do it?" She advanced towards him, reaching out and touching his face. "You've gotten older. How long has it been now? Ten years?"

"More than that," he said, looking into her dark eyes. "Not long enough for her to have forgotten your face."

"How rude of you Harry," she said. "She is my daughter, after all. I gave birth to her."

"She's not your daughter," Harry spat and shoved her away.

She laughed again. "So protective you are, Harry," she said. "But you always were. When you found us there outside of Silent Hill—I knew we would be safe with you. I could see you were a good man."

"_You_ would be safe," he said. "You were just biding your time."

"This is her destiny, Harry," Dahlia said, her smile fading. "She was never meant to even have a childhood, let alone a life. You should be grateful for your time with her."

"Cheryl is not some piece of meat you can just sacrifice!" he exclaimed. "She's just like any other normal girl! She has friends, a life—she deserves the chance to be happy!"

"Don't delude yourself," she said. "She is by no means like any other normal girl. You've seen the power she possesses. She isn't even fully human. You know that, Harry. It's time for her to go home to where she truly belongs."

"She belongs here," he argued, "with her family."

Dahlia only shook her head. "You don't seem to understand, Harry—she'll come to me regardless of whether you want her to or not."

Harry contemplated her words, the realization dawning. "Please," he whispered, "please, Dahlia, stop."

"I've waited far too long," she said. "All these years I've spent waiting for her blood to mature. It's time for our dear Cheryl to usher in Paradise. Besides, she has already cast off the veil of a 'normal life.' She fights our servants, kills them, grows stronger with each battle—she has unwittingly become closer to the angel she really is!"

"She is nothing like those monsters of yours!" Harry cried. "I could have kept running, hoping that one day we'd be able to get free of you people. But how could I do that and not allow her to live a normal life? And you would have found us, anyway. It was unavoidable." He raised the gun and trained it upon her. "But even still, I never wanted her to have to fight."

"Killing me won't change a thing," she said. "At this very moment, others are pursuing her, hoping to end her life and take her power. Harry, you can do _nothing_."

"I can try."

"I'm sorry, Harry." She shook her head sadly, clicking her tongue. "I wish there was another way, but sacrifices must be made."

"_Dahlia_—"

"If you intend to kill me," she said, "then you must be willing to kill her, as well."

Harry shuffled back, surprised as a teenage girl stepped into view. She wore a similar black dress, her hair down, her glasses absent.

"You're Cheryl's friend," Harry said lifelessly, lowering the gun. "Claudia." He turned to Dahlia, who placed a hand on the girl's shoulder; Claudia peered silently at the man, her eyes pits.

"What have you done?" Harry asked.

"Poor Claudia here lost her father," Dahlia replied. "She has adopted the ways of the Order, accepted the teachings of our faith—she is like a daughter to me."

Harry glanced at the girl, desperate. "Claudia, listen to me. She's lied to you. She—"

"No," Claudia said, cutting him off. "Dahlia has told me the truth; for the first time in my life, someone has been honest with me. I know where I come from now—and where I belong."

Harry sighed, a tired smile creeping onto his face. "You're so young," he said quietly.

3 3 3

At her office desk, Margaret Holloway watched the news report streaming on her computer with interest, nursing a bottled water and sipping it occasionally. "So Asphyxia failed," she said quietly, smiling. "I wonder—are these girls even human?"

3 3 3

"Man, I am _beat_!"

Heather staggered into her house, drained, and plopped down into the nearest chair. "Damn that was tiring," she groaned, and Selina flew around to her face.

"They seem to be getting stronger," the fairy said, and Heather shrugged halfheartedly.

"Yeah, well, I don't think it'd get any easier. Hey, Dad, I'm back! Dad? We need to talk."

She looked over her shoulder and saw the bags of groceries atop the kitchen counter. "That's weird," she said, walking over and looking through them. "He didn't put any of it away. Dad, are you here?"

"It's quiet," Selina said, and Heather glanced about, glimpsing splotches of red on the floor, leading away from the kitchen towards the bedroom.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, following it, shaking, her heart beating in her chest. "Dad? Dad—"

She screamed.

3 3 3

Alessa walked onto the porch, taking up the rose as she did so. "Guess she came to her senses after all," Arthur said, hovering near her head. Alessa looked up, stern-faced, ignoring him, and entered the house with careful steps. She slowly made her way through the kitchen and den towards the bedroom, where the only light in the house shone. She stepped through the doorway, appraising the scene before her with despondence—lying atop the bed was the form of a body, covered with a sheet. Heather sat huddled against the wall, shivering in a towel, wet from the dripping shower. Her hair was lush and brown; the dye had been washed out.

Alessa knelt down and wordlessly took the girl into her arms. Almost immediately Heather burst into fresh tears, clutching tightly to Alessa.

"He was—he was like that when we got back," Selina said, rising from the bedside.

"I see," Alessa said softly, caressing Heather's hair and rubbing her back. "I should have been watching."

From under her arms Heather stirred and shook her head. "No," she croaked, barely beyond a whisper, and looked into Alessa's eyes. "No. I—I should have protected him—"

"This isn't your fault," Alessa said, touching her cheek. "None of this is your fault."

"Why?" Heather moaned between sobs. "Why did they do this to him? He didn't—he didn't fucking deserve it!"

Alessa embraced her again, soothing another round of crying. "Heather," she murmured, "Cheryl—I know who did this. She's calling for you now, for both of us." She glanced at Harry's draped form. "She must be waiting in Silent Hill."

Heather followed her gaze to the bed and cleared her throat. "Take me there," she cracked, her eyes burning. "I'll—I'll fucking kill whoever did this. I swear to God. They'll _pay_."

3 3 3

Alex and Elle left the theater and walked into the night, heading for his car. "Well, that was a terrible movie," Elle said plainly, wrapping her jacket around herself. "At least it was cheap."

"It wasn't so bad," Alex said, taking out his keys. "I'd say it was a good first effort." His cell phone rang, and he held it up to answer. "I'll be damned—it's Maria. Hello?"

Elle watched him, concerned, as he listened. Slowly, his brow furrowed. "Alex?" she asked. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He held up a hand towards her, still listening. "Okay," he said at last. "Okay, thanks." He clicked the phone off and slipped it into his pocket.

"What was all that about?" Elle queried, and he faced her, his face pale.

"Mary's in the hospital," he said.

**END EPISODE 13**

**Fueled by vengeance, Heather and Alessa travel to Silent Hill in order to confront Harry's murderer—but what horrors await them? **

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 14: Clash Against the Queen!"**

**The time of reckoning draws closer!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**

_(A/N: Finally, a line-break that isn't eaten by the document manager-well, not really. They're supposed to be hearts.)_


	14. Clash Against the Queen!

Light. Outside, the world was full of light. Cheryl watched from the window as seagulls flew high in the sky, white blips against the haunting blue expanse. There were no clouds—only that endless blue. It stretched on endlessly, meeting that of the ocean. In her lap, the young girl doodled, drawing square birds and dotting their eyes.

"It's nice to finally have some days off," Harry said from the driver's seat, younger, wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt, his glasses just slightly off-kilter. Cheryl glanced from him to the woman in the passenger seat, but she could hardly see her. She saw the side of her face and the blonde hair creeping down it; she saw the mouth move but could not hear the words. Harry laughed.

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 14: Clash Against the Queen!**

"Heather—wake up."

She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to the hazy morning light. Alessa stood over, a hand placed on her shoulder; she shook her lightly once more. "We're here."

Heather sat up straight and briefly looked around the bus. Aside from her and Alessa, it was empty. The driver looked on at them expectantly, gruff, his face wrinkled and coarse. "It's time to go," Alessa said gently, and Heather rose and followed her to the front of the bus. "Thank you," Alessa said to the driver, and he nodded curtly. He and Heather locked gazes for a moment before she stepped onto the asphalt outside. The two girls turned to watch the door shut and the bus drive off into the gray distance.

Heather slid her hands into the brown leather jacket zipped around her and let out a deep breath. "It's cold," she said, her hair strained and dark against the mist. Alessa was quiet, peering off across the road into the deep forestry on the other side, watching the moving shadows within.

"Come on," she said, walking out from under the tarpaulin of the bus stop. "There should be a gas station not too far from here." Heather slung her travel bag over her shoulder and followed, eyeing the light fog and tall, foreboding trees warily.

"Couldn't we have just gone straight there?" she asked. "This all seems like a big waste of time."

"We could have," Alessa answered, "but I thought you could have used some rest. Of course, using our powers is going to draw attention, and I'd like to prolong that as long as possible."

"Sure. I guess so."

They trekked on. Arthur hovered by Alessa's head, buzzing. "I don't sense anything," he said. "They're not following us."

"They will be soon," Alessa said. She nodded towards a building slowly coming into view. "Do you see that, Heather? We'll stop for a minute."

They made their way through the vacant parking lot and into the store, which a rickety neon sign upon the window proclaimed open. Inside, the aisles were crammed with bags of potato chips and candies. A radio behind the front counter played an old country song, occasionally degenerating into static. The man behind the counter watched the two girls lace through the aisles with a crooked grin, his eyes only slightly the same. He tipped his ratty cap and chuckled.

"It's rare to see customers," he said, smoothening out his shirt, "especially some so proper."

"Really?" Alessa asked, glancing at him. "Well, we're not staying long."

"No problem," he said, smirking. "You just tell me if you need anything. Name's Curtis."

"Will do, Curtis," she said, and turned to Heather. "Do you need anything? We're leaving quickly."

"Let me just use the bathroom," Heather said and headed off to the back of the store. Alessa shrugged and pointed towards the burritos on the counter.

"I suppose I'll take one of those."

"Take as many as you want," Curtis said, his sloppy grin growing every wider.

Inside the restroom, Heather immediately buckled before the toilet and puked, vomiting wads of bile into the water. She gagged, coughing, and stood up shakily, wiping her chin.

"Princess!" Selina cried. "Princess, are you all right?"

"Yeah," she muttered, leaning against the sink and staring at the tired face in the mirror. She ran the faucet, the water shooting out in fragments, and splashed her face. "Yeah, I'm okay," she said, patting her cheeks and rubbing her eyes.

"Maybe you're not in the best condition—"

"I'm _fine_," Heather cracked, glaring at the fairy. Her expression softened. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry."

Selina stared at her uncertainly, about to say something else when Heather's cell phone beeped. She drew it from her pocket and flipped out the screen.

**hey bitch wanna get breakfast? you better not be sleepin still :E**

"It's from Eileen," said Heather, smiling. She closed the phone and tucked it away.

"You're not going to respond?"

"She doesn't need to know what's happening," the girl replied. "Her and Townshend and the rest don't need to be involved this. It's just too dangerous."

"Maybe _this_ is too dangerous," Selina said. "Maybe—"

"Selina," Heather cut her off, "Alessa and I are all there is. We're the only ones able to fight. If we're not enough—if this really is too much for us—then we're screwed. There's no getting around it." She offered the fairy a weak smile. "It'll be okay. We'll rescue all your friends, and you'll be able to go back to your own world. Now come on."

Heather walked out, Selina hiding herself in her pocket, and found Alessa leaning against the door, waiting. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Heather nodded and joined her, but Curtis spoke up.

"Now hold on," he said, stroking his chin, still grinning. "Just where are you two girls headed off to, anyway? There's nothing out here in the backwoods."

Alessa looked to him, contemplative, and replied, "Silent Hill. We're going to Silent Hill."

Curtis' brow went up, and he chuckled. "Silent Hill, huh? That place is practically a ghost town, I've heard."

"We're just making a visit to some family," she told him. "Nothing more than that."

"So you two are sisters?"

"Cousins," Heather responded awkwardly, trying a smile. "We, uh, haven't seen each other in a while, so—we figured we'd go together, catch up on the way—you know."

"Yeah," Curtis said, "yeah, I know. Well, anyway, I won't keep you here any more than you need to be."

"Thank you," said Alessa, raising the burrito, and she left, followed by Heather. Curtis watched them through the window as they continued up the road, void of a car or a lot of luggage. He snickered.

"You're bad liars, little princesses."

3 3 3

Twin orbs of light hovered high in the air, one a bright pink and the other a deep red. They slowly descended through the haze, and Heather and Alessa emerged from the gray, their fairies twirling about their heads. Before them, the mist grew into thick, suffocating fog. A large sign to their right, its paint chipping, proclaimed "Welcome to Silent Hill."

"So we're finally here," Heather said, glancing from the sign to the fog ahead. "It's really heavy. This place must be just as fucked as you said it was."

"If we proceed any further using our powers," Alessa said, "then we may as well be swinging giant red flags at them. The demonic power caking this whole area is very intense; you might feel lightheaded or nauseated. It's normal."

"I've felt like that all day, anyway," Heather said quietly, smirking. "How can it get any worse?"

Alessa stared at her, saying nothing, before she gestured towards Heather's pocket. "Your cell phone won't be much good here, either. All technology is useless now."

Heather raised her phone and frowned at the lack of signal. "I guess it'll just stop working once we get deeper in." She sighed and looked up, scowling. "I thought it was cold before, but—is that _snow_?"

Falling lightly towards them, just barely visible against the gray sky, were snowflakes. Alessa caught one in her palm and watched it melt. "Like I told you, the town is virtually cut off from the rest of the world—in fact, it's almost somewhere else entirely. Snow in the spring, for example."

"Can't you feel it?" Arthur asked, buzzing around Alessa's head. "I can smell 'em from a mile away. Demons are crawling over this place."

"Yes," Selina murmured. "Yes, but it feels even worse than I was last here. Something's wrong."

"The Order's plans accelerated once they acquired the Seal of Metatron," Alessa said. "It's no surprise the town is getting worse. Even the fog has already spread onto the highway."

The girls began their trek into the town, keeping to the main road, eyeing each building as it loomed ominously over them. "What happened to all the people?" Heather asked. "Is this because of the demons?"

"Most left," Alessa answered. "Things got out of hand. The only ones who remained were those loyal to the Order—and even then, most of those are gone forever, now."

"Shit," Heather said. "Sounds rough."

"They think they're worshipping a benevolent god," Alessa said, "but that's the farthest thing from the truth. What she's done is unforgivable."

"She?"

Alessa turned to Heather, her expression grave. "The leader of the Order—the one who murdered your father. She controls the demons. She's not like the others."

Heather furrowed her brow. "And she's here?"

Alessa nodded. "Yes. I don't doubt she already knows we're here."

"Then where's the welcoming party?" queried Heather. "I don't think she'd just let us waltz on up, would she?"

Alessa squinted into the fog, glimpsing dark figures roaming about. "I think you spoke too soon," she said, backing away.

"You're right," Heather said, dropping her bag as creatures began to emerge, from strange, humanoid abominations to bestial, raving monsters. Tall, lanky demons, their arms like clubs, lurched over the others, and flying beasts screeched and flew in wide arcs over their heads.

"Finally," said Heather darkly, "something I can sink my teeth into."

"Just try to keep up," Alessa said, her lips twisting in a rare smile, and the girls sprang into action.

"_Heart power_!"

"_Transform_!"

Alessa struck first, crimson light vanishing around her, her rapier moving like lightning, a trail of rose petals chasing it. Heather swung out with her Heart Rod, pink and glittering, crushing the demons in her path. The monsters advanced, their numbers increasing—for each demon slain, two more appeared to continue its fight.

"They're really pulling out all the stops!" Heather cried, her yellow lasers tearing through a swath of Gum Heads. Across from her, Alessa spun through swings and swipes, gracefully avoid each attack and returning one of her own; her whip lashed out, severing a head; her rapier flashed, removing an arm.

"You're just going to have to hang on!" she cried back, lobbing a rose into the crowd and detonating it in a fierce explosion.

"That's easier said than done!" Heather responded, spinning out of an attack before driving her fist through a demon's head. "There's just no end to these things!" She skipped back into something soft and blubbery; she squealed as the Insane Cancer tightened its arms around her, enveloping her with its girth—it suddenly fell apart, its flesh and blood spilling around her.

"Come on!" Alessa yelled, flicking her blade clean, as she grabbed Heather's arm. They rose into the air, escaping the foray.

"Suck my balls!" Heather shouted, shooting into the crowd. "Heather beam, bitches!"

The flying demons swarmed them, surrounding them in a funnel. "Let's land on that roof!" Alessa cried, cutting her way through to a nearby building. They touched down, killing what creatures they could on the way down, but the roof was soon flooded with more demons.

"They just don't give up, do they?" Heather said, backing up against Alessa as the two faced the oncoming enemies.

"They can't stand our smell," Alessa said, brandishing her rapier. "It's both wonderful and horrible to them at the same time."

"That's a pleasant thought." Heather raised the Heart Rod, grimacing, prepared for another round, when an air siren sounded, piercing the air. The demons all stopped, freezing, and then turned towards the noise.

"What's that?" asked Heather, breathless. "Why aren't they attacking?"

"They're being called off," Alessa replied, following the direction of the siren. Slowly the demons trailed off and slunk back into the fog, and, far into the distance, something shone brilliantly.

"A church?" Heather wondered aloud, squinting at the bright light far-off. "There's no fog over there."

The siren stopped, allowing the deathly silence to resume its reign. "She's waiting for us," Alessa said. "We can no longer turn back."

"I wasn't going to," Heather said, a sphere of pink light surrounding her. "Let's go."

They took flight, hopping from building to building, wary of the dead sky around them. "This town was once a beautiful place," Alessa said as they soared onwards to the church. "You'll have to take my word for it."

"No," replied Heather, "no, I believe you. I came here when I was very little." They landed on the short dirt path leading to the magnificent building; it was a large, daunting structure, bathed in gorgeous light. Beyond it, the waters of the nearby lake shimmered. Flowers scaled off to their sides, unwavering and still. Heather's uniform dissipated, and she took in the sight with a long sigh.

"It's one of the only things I remember about my mom," she said. "I don't remember much about the trip, but—I know she was with us."

"I'm surprised," Alessa said, her tone reflective, her own uniform disappearing, "surprised that they didn't try to come after you."

Heather turned to her, silent, and Alessa mustered a light smile. "I'm sorry I brought you here, Heather. I wish we had more time."

Heather shook her head. "No, it's okay. I mean, with Dad gone, what else am I going to do? There's nothing left for me back there."

Alessa opened her mouth to speak but decided against it. "Arthur," she said instead, "what do you sense in there?"

"I don't sense _any_thing," he said, flying closer to the church. "That's what's so weird. The rest of the place is real hot, but this church—it's cold."

"Princess," Selina whispered, shuddering near Heather's ear. "I think we should leave. We shouldn't go in."

"Don't be ridiculous," Heather said, glancing at her. "Besides, we can't leave. I don't have any other options left except for this."

"I just have this feeling," the fairy said. "I know that I can be a nag—I'm sorry—but—"

"It'll be fine," Heather said, this time more severely. "We'll be okay." She sent Alessa a nod. "Alright. I'm ready."

Alessa nodded back and opened the wide, wooden doors, revealing an expansive cathedral lined with stained-glass windows. An inscribed cross hung from the ceiling, bearing down upon the altar and pews. They entered, but Heather stopped and grasped her stomach, wincing.

"Are you all right?" Alessa inquired, turning back; the other girl nodded despite herself.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm fine."

Alessa pointed towards the back of the cathedral. "We need to head further in. There's something—something big waiting for us."

"Yeah," Heather said, "I feel it, too. It's like it's—like it's calling me, or something like that."

"Feel what?" Arthur asked. "I don't sense a thing."

They continued on, working through a series of hallways and corridors before finally stepping into a sun-steeped chamber of glass. It was an atrium, huge and cavernous, dominated by a massive tree in the center. Plants and vegetation of all colors and sizes lined the room. Birds circled the ceiling, chirping peacefully.

"This isn't quite what I was expecting," Heather commented dryly. "I didn't think the Order was interested in gardening."

"We are an eclectic group," echoed a woman's voice throughout the atrium. "In fact, you'd most likely be surprised to find we aren't so different."

Heather and Alessa tensed; across from them, a woman approached, dressed in a simple white dress. Her blonde hair curled around her neck. "Welcome," she greeted gently.

"You," Heather growled, stepping forward. "Are you the one? Did you—" She stopped, staring at the woman's face. "You're—you—"

The woman smiled. "So I see Harry was only half-right. You do remember me, Cheryl."

"What was that?" she demanded. "How do you know my name?"

"How wouldn't I know?" the woman asked. "I'm your mother, after all. I gave birth to you—to _both_ of you."

Heather backed away, stunned. "That's not possible," she muttered. "You can't be—you can't be my _mother_, and—and Alessa—"

Alessa was silent, never removing her eyes from the woman.

"So Alessa didn't tell you," she said. "I can understand why. Meeting your twin sister after so many years must have been a shock."

"I don't get it," Heather said. "How—"

"I was the defective copy," Alessa said, looking to Heather. "I didn't have what it took."

"It was not your fault," the woman said. "Only one can be the mother of God." She turned to Heather, smiling. "And it was you, Cheryl—it was always you. Harry was very kind to me, very kind to you—but he separated us. He kept us apart."

"Don't listen to her, Heather," Alessa said. "Your father protected you. He—"

"Harry was ignorant of your true destiny, Cheryl. He had—"

"_That's enough_!" Heather screamed, trembling. "Just shut up—both of you just _shut up_!" She raised her head to the woman, eyes burning with fire, fists clenched. "I've spent so much time wondering—so much time dreaming of my mother! I always, _always_ hoped I'd get to see her some day, to talk to her, to get to know her! You have no idea.

"_But_—but now I realize that was always just a dream! You might be my mom—Alessa might be my sister—but, personally, I just don't give a shit anymore! _You killed my dad_! And you have the gall to talk shit about him now! How dare you! How fucking _dare_ you! You're nothing but trash! You're just another fucking loony-tunes bitch _who deserves to die_!"

The woman laughed, sighing. "You're so angry, so full of hatred. You must want to kill me."

"Worse than that," Heather spat. "I want to make you suffer. I want to make you wish you'd never been fucking _born_!"

"Then do it," the woman said, spreading apart her arms. "Come and kill me." Black liquid poured from her arms and over her hands, staining her sleeves and running to the floor. It seeped into the soil of the gigantic tree, coursing over and under the roots. "My name is Dahlia, by the way," she said.

"Dahlia," Heather repeated, grinning devilishly. "Good. Good, I'm glad I know."

"Heather," Alessa said, glancing at her as the room darkened. "Heather, you—"

"This is why I came here, Alessa," Heather said. "I didn't come here to save the world or anything like that. I came here to kill this bitch."

Dahlia laughed, raising her arms to the spectacle before them. The glass walls grew grimy and dark; the vegetation around them withered and died. The marble beneath their feet cracked and disintegrated, revealing rusted grating over a giant, spinning fan underneath.

The tree began to shake, its bark breaking apart, replaced by pulsing, red flesh. The tree began to rise, its roots unhinging, morphing into long, hideous arms. The branches transfigured into chains, suspending the massive creature that finally showed itself. A head, swollen, appeared. Its maw, a black, drenched flap, opened in a roar. Pulsating sacs of meat descended, surrounding it, their weight keeping the monstrosity in the air.

"Sepulcher," Dahlia whispered, smiling.

"It's enormous," Alessa murmured, but Heather clicked her tongue.

"Who cares," she said, raising the pocket mirror. "I'm going to kill it, no matter how big it is! _Heart power_!"

"I suppose there's no other way," Alessa said, throwing up her bracelet. "_Transform_!"

Heather was already rushing forward, Heart Rod in hand, yelling at the top of her lungs. With a single smash, however, the Sepulcher sent the room shuddering and broke her advance.

"You're just a big turd!" she exclaimed. "Take this! Heather beam!" She charged her lasers and fired, but they hardly scratched the demon's hide; it retaliated with a powerful swipe, launching Heather straight across the arena.

"Don't be so reckless!" Alessa cried, avoiding a swipe and throwing a rose into the demon's face. It exploded, momentarily stunning the beast. "If you run in blindly, you'll die!"

"I don't need you to tell me how to fight!" Heather yelled. "I'm not going to die! I'm going to tear this thing apart!"

"Calm down!" Alessa jumped away, dodging another attack. "We can't fight it like this—we need to bring it down! Heather!"

"Those chains! Hit the chains!" Heather's eyes alit and fired, her lasers burning through the chains suspending one of the sacs. The Sepulcher roared and thrashed out, slamming Heather against the wall.

"You're right!" Alessa shouted, ducking under a limb and throwing another rose. It blew apart one of the chains, and the respective sac collapsed to the floor. She quickly leapt onto the monster's arm and then hopped off, slashing through another chain. The Sepulcher lurched and crashed to the floor, its giant torso nearly crushing her.

"There, now we can—" She screamed as the demon suddenly spun around on its hands, its mouth widening and spewing out a massive wad of black gunk. Alessa barely managed to cover her face as the liquid burnt and corroded her uniform; she fell to the floor, writhing and screaming.

"Alessa!" Arthur yelled, suddenly swatted away by the monster.

"No!" Heather cried, brandishing the Heart Rod. It glowed a vibrant pink, and she sent a large, glimmering heart flying at the demon, but it easily punched through the attack and pummeled Heather. She skidded across the grating and quickly sat up, wiping away the trail of blood leading from her lip. "Son of a bitch," she muttered, watching the Sepulcher advance towards her. "Come on, then! Bring it, you pile of shit!"

The monster roared and raised a fist, but an explosion disrupted its attack. Heather turned to see Alessa standing, charred but very much alive. "Heather!" she yelled, and the other girl nodded.

"Right!" She brandished the Heart Rod once again, pink spirals encircling its length. "Looks like your time's up! By the power of the heart and true love's light, I'm—" She gasped as sanguine vines coursed up her body, binding her in place. "What the hell?"

"No!" Alessa cried, watching the Sepulcher prepare for another strike. She leapt in the way, her rapier glowing, and lopped off the demon's hand. The appendage hit the floor, the end of the arm exploding in blood. "Are you all right?" she asked desperately, cutting Heather free. The other girl nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's—" She stopped short, gasping. "Look!" Alessa turned to find the demon's wound begin to clot and close. Tendons and vessels intermingled and formed a fresh hand, as if it had never been severed.

"It can regenerate?" Alessa thought aloud. Dahlia laughed.

"It's useless," she said. "Here in the realm of the demons, your power is insignificant."

"We can't win," Alessa murmured hopelessly, backing off as the titan of a beast made its way towards them, roaring. "It's unbeatable!"

"I don't believe that!" Heather exclaimed. "If it bleeds, it can die! Right? We can still do this!"

She charged, bellowing a thunderous battle cry, but with one swift movement, the Sepulcher grabbed her and pulled her into the air. "Heather!" Alessa cried, but she was quickly batted away.

"Let _go_!" shouted Heather, crying in pain as the creature tightened its grip.

"_Princess_!" Selina shrieked. The demon raised her high and then threw its arm down, slamming Heather into the floor. She flopped like a fish in its grasp, choking out blood. It brought her down again and again, each time more fervently than the last. "Stop it!" Selina yelled, flying into the demon's face only to be effortlessly swatted away into the distance.

"No!" Heather gasped, meeting the floor again. Her vision blurred, her mind racing and her heart drumming. She clutched at the Sepulcher's hand loosely with her own, vainly trying to lift it off. "I—I won't die, you—you _fucktard_!"

Nearby, Alessa rose to her feet, wounded and weary. "It's—it's no use," she said. "We can't do a thing."

"Alessa!" Arthur flew around her frantically. "We have to get out of here! It's going to kill us!"

"No," she breathed, looking towards Dahlia, who regarded Heather's predicament with tranquil amusement. "No, we can—we can _win_!" She sprinted off to the woman, rapier poised to thrust into her heart—but suddenly she froze in the middle of her leap, the dark vines tangling around her waist and anchoring her down.

Dahlia turned to her, smiling. "Is that your really best, Alessa?" she asked. "Poor girl. You really have failed to live up to expectations."

"Damn _you_!" Alessa struggled, the vines entrapping her.

"You had so much potential," Dahlia went on. "But you simply were not worthy. Why don't you join the rest of the defective trash?" She flung a hand out, and a giant spike of a vine erupted from the ground and impaled Alessa on the spot. The girl vomited out a mouthful of blood, dropping her rapier and seizing the vine weakly.

Heather watched from her place on the floor, pinned down by the Sepulcher. "_Alessa_!" she screamed. "_No_!"

Dahlia flicked her hand; the vine flailed and sent Alessa tumbling down. She rolled to a stop, her hair cascading over her face, her uniform vanishing in faded specks of red light. "Alessa!" Arthur flew down to her, horrified. "Alessa—"

"Arthur," she managed, her face pale and sweaty, her eyes bleary. "Arthur—you—you go with Heather—now—"

"Alessa—"

"Help—help her," Alessa spat, blood dribbling from her mouth. She fought to sit up but collapsed, her eyes growing glassy.

"_Alessa_!" the fairy yelled.

"No," Heather muttered, turning her attention back to the demon before her. "No—I'll kill you—I'll kill you—I'll _kill_ you—_I'll fucking kill you_—_I'LL KILL YOU_!"

Bright white light enveloped her and exploded outward, obliterating half of the Sepulcher in the process. Dahlia watched with interest as Heather stood shakily, a shining aura surrounding her, her gloves and boots lined with gold and her headband a shimmering tiara. Long, angelic wings of light blossomed from her back.

The Sepulcher staggered forward, regenerating instantly, and made to attack. The Heart Rod flew to Heather's hand, morphing into a staff on its way, and with one deft swing, Heather annihilated the demon, a crescent of divine light destroying it and just barely missing Dahlia as it sheared through the atrium.

"So," Dahlia said, laughing, "this is the true power of Princess Heart. Incredible, Cheryl—this is the ultimate proof of your ascension. You are the mother of God!"

Dark vines rose to entrap her, but they withered and faded around Heather's aura. She disregarded Dahlia and turned to Alessa, whose body lay still, the crimson vines already wrapping themselves around her corpse.

Heather faced Dahlia, furious, and trained the staff upon her. "Are you ready?"

Dahlia laughed and shrugged. "But Cheryl—"

"_Don't call me that_!" Heather screamed. "Only my father can call me that! You're no mother to me—you're just a witch!"

"Fine, then," Dahlia said. "But you're making a mistake, Heather. I didn't kill Harry."

"_What_?"

Dahlia gestured to the side. "She did."

Heather turned and saw a girl walk out into view besides Dahlia. Her heart sank. "_Claudia_?" she murmured, her voice broken and fractured. She lowered the staff, unable to tear her eyes away.

"You murdered her father, Leonard," Dahlia said. "She wanted vengeance, and I gave it to her. You see, Heather, my dear daughter—Harry's death was a necessary sacrifice. The hatred it fostered has matured the blessed being inside you. God feasts upon your agony."

"Claudia, no." Heather fell to her knees, gasping as black vines encroached upon her skin.

"Even now your sorrow feeds Her," Dahlia proclaimed. "Give in to it, Heather. Surrender yourself to it!"

"_No_!" Heather cried, the white of her skin now red. The light around her fizzled out, her uniform disappearing, and she fell over onto her side, screaming in pain. She raised her head with difficultly and saw Claudia coldly staring down at her, her expression stony.

"The Seal of Metatron is useful only as a medium for your abilities," said Dahlia. "What I really need is you, Cheryl. You _will_ birth God."

Heather struggled to remain conscious, the pain becoming unbearable. She saw Claudia's face, so full of repressed rage, and everything went dark.

3 3 3

"It would appear Dahlia now has everything she needs," Margaret Holloway said, her cell phone against her ear at her office. "We need to move quickly."

"Don't worry," Kaufmann said on the other end. "I've taken the necessary steps."

"I certainly hope so," Margaret said. "We may not survive the coming days if she decides to come after us."

"She won't," replied Kaufmann confidently. "Dahlia's playing with fire, and she'll get burnt."

3 3 3

Two miniscule orbs of light rose from the fog of Silent Hill, one yellow and the other violet. Selina and Arthur turned back towards the desolate town, watching as the mist below spread.

**END EPISODE 14**

**With both Heather and Alessa out of commission, who is left to stand against Dahlia and her wicked scheme? As time runs out, the fog of Silent Hill grows thicker…**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 15: The Dwindling Light!"**

**The ritual will soon begin.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	15. The Dwindling Light!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 15: The Dwindling Light!**

Henry awoke to the sound of sirens racing by his room. He turned over, groaning, and pulled the sheets over his head—but immediately something felt _wrong_. He glanced at the photographs adorning the walls of his room and found them dark, void of the usual glare from the window. He sat up and saw that the entire room was too dark, too quiet. He stumbled out of bed to his computer and nudged the mouse; the monitor sprang to life and displayed the time: 9:35 AM.

"What the hell?" he muttered, brow furrowed, and scrambled onto his bed to peer out the window. His eyes widened in surprise. Fog hung over the scene, shrouding the street and the lawn. He could just barely discern the outline of the Galvin household next door. "What the fuck is going on?"

He quickly dressed, throwing on a shirt, jeans, and jacket, and hurried to the kitchen. Peering out the window over the sink, he saw that the fog stretched on far beyond the neighborhood. The middle distance was clogged with gray.

"It's been like that since the middle of the night."

Henry turned and found his father, Will, standing in the doorway. He raised his mug of coffee to his lips and sipped. "Don't ask me why. Everything's static on the TV except for the national broadcast channels."

"Well," Henry said, "it isn't normal. That's for fucking sure." He pushed some of his bangs out of his face. "Anyway, I'm going out."

"You—"

Henry held a hand up to his father, shaking his head. "I don't have time for this right now. You'll have to chew me out some other time."

"That's not what it's about," Will said. "I, uh—I got you your camera."

Henry looked at him, his face blank. "You what?"

"Your camera. You broke the other one."

"Oh—yeah." They both fidgeted, awkward. "Well, thanks—I guess."

"Just don't go breaking this one," said Will. He cleared his throat. "I don't have all the money in the world to be supporting you."

Henry chuckled dryly. "Yeah." He waved it off and left, stepping into the gray haze outside. It was cold, but there was no wind. He pulled his jacket around a little tighter and looked up to see the sky overcast and ominous.

"_Why_," he mumbled, "oh, _why_, do I get the feeling this has to do with Mason's crap?"

The house over, the door busted open. "_Hi_, Henry!"

He looked to his right, grimacing; Eileen waved at him erratically, beaming happily. "Waiting for me again?" he asked with a sigh once she hopped on over to him.

"Of _course_ not!" she answered, hands behind her back, dressed in jeans and a blouse under an open sweater. "It was just a coincidence."

"Sure." He looked beyond her at the fog, frowning. "What do you think all this bullshit is, anyway?"

She glanced around, shrugging. "I don't know. It's been like this for a while. But it's weird, you know—it's spring! The sun should be shinin', the bird's a-chirpin'—"

"How much you want to bet it's something to do with the Order?"

Eileen's face darkened. "You might be right," she said. "But they haven't done anything like this. It's always just been those demons."

"Have you talked to Mason?"

She shook her head. "No. I called her yesterday to go get breakfast—but she never texted back. I don't know—I didn't think too much about it. I thought it was strange that she didn't call me all day, though…" She looked into his eyes, alert. "You don't think—"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Henry said. "But it's pretty safe to say there's some fucked-up shit going on." He started off down the street, leaving her.

"Hey!" she called. "Wait up! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see James," he said, looking back. "I want to see what he thinks."

"I'll go with you!" She skipped up to him, determination plastered over her face. "We freedom fighters have to stick together, Henry! Otherwise, we're _doomed_! Okay? Okay!"

She walked past him, but he grabbed her arm and held her back. "Eileen." She spun around to him, tense in his grip.

"Let go of me," she said icily. He did, but their gazes remained locked.

"Why are you so interested in me?" he asked. "I almost took advantage of you—almost served you to Dombrowski on a silver platter with your ass up in the air and an apple in your mouth."

"But you didn't," she replied. "We've been over this, Henry. You were honest with me, and I understand why you did it. Can't you just get it through your head that you're a good guy?"

"I'm not," he said, his mouth dry. "James is a good guy; Alex is a good guy; but I'm not like them at all."

"That's not true." She took his face in her hands. "You saved me, Henry, you hear me? You've had the balls to keep going when we were all willing to just let it go. I mean, fuck, Henry—I _like_ spending time with you. So do your friends. Got it?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."

"Good!" she exclaimed, smiling. "Now—look, you didn't even get this button!" She finished buttoning his shirt and smoothed out the creases. "There! Perfect." She jabbed him in the arm. "So, shall we go?"

With that, she hooked her arm through his and pulled him forward down the street. Henry sighed and resigned himself to his fate, unable to stifle a small smile.

Upon arriving at the Sunderland household, Henry rapped on the door and stepped back, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. Eileen admired the variety of potted plants lining the interior of the porch.

"Frank likes to dick around with gardening," Henry said. "You should see the backyard."

A gruff cry reached them from inside the house. "Coming! Hold your horses!" The door swung open, and Frank appeared. "Yeah, what do you—_Henry_, my boy! Good to see you!"

"Hey, Mr. Sunderland," Henry greeted. "Is James around—"

"And who is this fine young lady you've got with you?" Frank had stepped outside and grabbed Eileen by the shoulders, sizing her up. "Who might you be, sweetheart?"

"Eileen Galvin, sir," she said, saluting him. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Look at that fire!" Frank exclaimed, slapping Henry on the back with a hearty laugh. "Where'd you find her, Henry?"

Henry glanced between him and Eileen nervously. "Uh—"

"It's more like _I_ found _him_," Eileen said, drawing another laugh from Frank.

"I like that!" he chuckled. "Spunky _and_ beautiful, just like my wife! Eileen, you'd make the perfect daughter-in-law!"

She blushed and looked away. "Oh, Mr. Sunderland!" she cooed. "Henry and I haven't even discussed marriage yet!"

"We haven't discussed _anything_ yet," Henry said lowly. "Listen, Mr. Sunderland—"

"Yeah, you're looking for James," he replied, turning, wrapping an arm around Eileen's shoulders, "but if I were you, I'd be spending time with Eileen here. It's days like these where we should be focusing on keeping warm—if you get my drift."

"You can say that again," Eileen remarked, her eyes slits, her lips curved in a devilish smile. Henry groaned and rolled his eyes.

"So James isn't here."

"Nope." Frank cleared his throat and snorted. "He went a little earlier with Laura to visit Mary."

"Mary?" Henry furrowed his brow. "What's wrong with her?"

"James didn't tell you?" Frank asked. "The poor girl's in the hospital. I really don't know why, though. You can probably find him there." His expression brightened and he grinned. "But before you go, how about I get you two some hot chocolate? I just made a batch."

Henry shook his head. "Sorry, Frank," he said, "but we'd better—"

"We'll gladly take some!" Eileen exclaimed, shoving a fist into the air, and Frank laughed.

"It's settled, then! Come on in!"

Henry watched the girl followed him inside, all smiles. "Goddamn woman," he grumbled.

3 3 3

The hospital waiting room was quiet, the windows gray with fog. Maria was the only one present, sitting in one of the blue leather chairs, her head in her hands. She was fiddling with the leaf of the potted plant beside her when James and Laura rounded the corner and walked up to her.

"Maria," he greeted sternly, glancing around. "Where are your parents?"

"Who knows," she said, still playing with the leaf. The awkward tension was soon broken by Laura.

"So where's Mary?" she demanded, planting her little hands on her hips. "You know where she is, don't ya'?"

Maria said nothing. Angrily Laura stormed up to her face, but James placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's her room number, Maria?"

Finally, she spoke up. "215," she said lifelessly. "It's down the hall."

Immediately Laura sped off, leaving James behind. Maria giggled hollowly, unzipping her purse and producing a cigarette and lighter. "Little punk really likes her, doesn't she?" she asked, lighting the cigarette and peering up at James. "_Everyone_ really likes her."

James looked down at the girl, at her drawn, worn face and dark eyes. Gone was the lipstick and mascara—she was tired and exposed. "Maria," he said, sighing, "I'm sorry about what I said the last time I saw you. I didn't mean it."

"Bullshit," she laughed, dragging. "Don't lie to me, James. I'm the stone-cold bitch, right? I'm the one everyone fucking hates. But _Mary_—she's just _perfect_. She's the golden girl. She gets all the good grades—she gets all the attention—she gets _everything_."

"I'm going," he said, turning away, but she grabbed his hand.

"It's not fair," she said, her voice cracking. The cigarette trembled in her hand. "Why is it always her, James? Why? Why is it always about her? Now she's sick—now everyone is so _worried_ about her! Now she gets to die, and everyone'll remember her as the perfect little goodie-two-shoes!"

James' eyes widened at the sound of the word. "Die? Mary's going to die?"

Suddenly Maria sprang up and coiled her arms around his neck. She kissed him, her lips wet with tears. "I'll still be here," she whispered, her breath hot on his face. "I'll still be here, James. I'll always be—"

He pushed her away, and she nearly tripped over the chair. "I'm going to see Mary," he said quietly, looking down at his feet.

"Fuck you," she spat at him. She turned, watching him reach the doors to the next hall. "You know, I'm glad she's going to die," she said, giggling. "You won't get to be with her, James! You'll be left alone, and it won't matter what you do! You'll never see her again!"

He passed through the doors, and she crumpled into the chair, weeping.

3 3 3

Mary lay in bed, draped in white, her head turned towards the window. Her chestnut hair was down, curling down around her neck. Her bosom rose in gentle, wholesome breaths. She seemed peaceful.

Laura nudged the door open and walked inside apprehensively. No medical apparatuses crowded the bedside; only a lamp stood on a small table. The young girl reached the bed and cleared her throat.

"Mary?"

She stirred and faced the girl, a smile spreading on her pale cheeks. "Laura," she said. "What a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," Laura said, her typically loud, bombastic personality subdued. Her eyes gleamed with tears. "Why are you here, Mary? Are you sick?"

Mary nodded, squeezing the child's hand. "I'm not doing too well, Laura," she said, stifling a cough. "I'm—I'm pretty sick."

"But—but—you're going to be okay, right? You're going to get better?" Laura sobbed and scrunched up her face. "Why are you looking at me like that? Mary! You've got to—get better—"

Her words degenerated into full-fledged cries. "Laura," Mary said, "Laura, it's okay—you—" She stopped, seeing James in the doorway. He watched them dumbly, unable to muster any words. At last he stepped forward and took his sister by the shoulder.

"Go and drink some water, Laura," he said, colder than he would have liked. She looked at up him furiously.

"No!" she cried defiantly. "I don't want water! I want to stay here with Mary!"

"Hey," Mary said, drawing the girl's attention. "I'll be still be here when you get back, okay, Laura? I'm not going anywhere."

Laura stared at her with red, teary eyes. "You promise?" she asked, sniffling.

Mary smiled. "Promise," she said.

The girl nodded and ran out, brushing past James. He slid his hands into his pant pockets and sighed. "I didn't want to bring her," he said, "but she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. She really wanted to see you."

"I'm glad she came," Mary said, sitting up. "I missed her—and Elle and Nora." She looked to him, her expression wavering. "You, too, James. I missed you, too. I'm sorry I—I couldn't go with you to the dance. I had everything ready—the dress, the shoes—but I—"

"I don't care," he said quietly, interrupting her. "Why—why didn't you tell me?"

She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it. She shrugged. "I've always liked you, James. I mean that. I guess I—I guess I just didn't want to mess it up."

"You couldn't mess it up," he said. "I—I was the one who waited too long." He looked away, drawing in an unsteady breath. "Maria said—she said you're going to die."

"She probably wants me to," Mary said softly. She examined a hand, curling the fingers and turning over her palm. "I found out a couple of months ago. Ever since then it's been a lot of tests and check-ups—but this is the first time I've been stuck here. They're going to try to take out the tumor, but—well, you know—"

James took her hand and pressed his lips against hers, silencing her. She opened her mouth, returning the kiss, tears stinging her cheeks. "I'll stay by you," James said, his forehead against hers. "But you can't give up, okay? You _are _going to get better. You just _are_."

Mary nodded silently, her eyes closed, the tears receding, when a yell surprised them both. "Get your dirty hands off her, James!" Laura shouted. He and Mary turned to the doorway to find the girl fuming, but behind her stood Henry, a grin on his face.

"Finally," he said, whistling. "I'd tell you to get a room, but, hell, you've already got one."

"Henry," James said, smiling.

3 3 3

"Fuck stupid ass bitch balls in my mouth." Eileen ground her teeth together in frustration, pulling at the plastic wrapper of the cookies. The vending machines before her hummed, their lights dull and dim within. Behind her, watching her monumental struggle, Selina and Arthur exchanged glances.

"You've got to be kidding," he said. "_That's_ who the seal led us to? She's a total spaz."

"It's definitely her," Selina said. "It makes sense. When the Order attacked the princess' friends, she was the one they were after."

"You'll have to excuse me for thinking the seal's not all it's cooked up to be."

Selina flew up to him, downcast. "Listen—you can't blame yourself for what happened to Alessa—"

"Oh, what do you know?" he cracked at her. "Alessa saved me—probably saved you, too! If she couldn't do anything to stop the Order, what makes you this twit will? Face it, Selina, we're done for."

The fairy remained quiet, unable to form a rebuttal. Below them, Eileen cleared her throat.

"_Who's_ a twit?"

The fairies looked down at her in surprise. "How'd she hear us?" Arthur asked, and Eileen giggled.

"Well, you're talking pretty loudly," she said, glancing between them. "Selina, what are you doing here, anyway? Where's Heather?"

"That's—that's why we're here," Selina said, floating down to Eileen's level. "The princess—she—she—"

"Just spit it out," said Eileen. "What happened? Does it have something to do with this weird fog?"

"The princess—is—"

"Your little princess is as good as dead," Arthur said bluntly. Eileen looked to him, her eyes wide.

"What did you say?"

"She and Alessa went to Silent Hill," Selina said quietly. "They tried to—tried to fight the Order's leader, but—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Eileen stepped back, hands up, eyes narrowed. "Slow down. Heather went to Silent Hill? To fight the Order?"

Arthur flew about in agitation. "Did we stutter? Alessa was killed because your friend was too careless!"

"That's enough!" Selina snapped. She faced Eileen, who stood anxiously. "The princess was—Heather was—beaten." She fidgeted. "There was nothing we could do! Even now she might be—she might be—"

"I get it," Eileen said quietly. She looked up, her eyes hard with resolve. "Why didn't she tell me? Why'd she go on her own?"

"It was—her father," Selina said. "He was—he was killed."

The words hit Eileen hard. She turned and grabbed a nearby chair for support. "Mr. Mason?" she murmured. "They—why—"

"It was a trap," the fairy said. "That woman—she wanted the princess to go. It was all part of her plan."

Tense silence reigned over them. Eileen stared into the middle distance, her face pale and her knuckles white. "So," she said, breathing hard, "that's it. Heather's gone. It's over." She raised a shaking hand to her face and rubbed her eyes. "They won."

"Oh, you really have got to be joking!" Arthur exclaimed in annoyance. "What do you think we're doing here, wasting time with you, chick? It's _not_ over! They haven't won!"

She looked up at him blankly, uncomprehending. The fairy groaned. "Don't you get it? They need your friend alive, so she's probably not dead—at least not yet." He flew into her face, wings flapping wildly. "If she's still alive, you can save her! You can still fight!"

"It's useless," Eileen said, shaking her head. "Only Heather and that other girl had the power to fight. There's no one around anymore that can do it."

"That's not true," Selina blurted, and Eileen turned to her. "We managed to recover the princess' piece of the Seal of Metatron—and it led us back here."

"So?" Eileen looked from her to Arthur dumbly. "What does that—" She stopped herself. Her large green went wide with understanding. "You don't mean _me_, do you?"

"Of_ course_ we do, you twit!" Arthur moaned. "The seal led us right to you!"

"That's right," said Selina. "You have the same blood as the princess—you always have. When you were attacked at the prom, it was because the Order wanted your power. I didn't know at the time, but now—this proves it."

Eileen let out a broken laugh and snort. "You've got to be shittin' me," she said.

Arthur groaned again. "I wish we were."

The fragmented slab of stone materialized before Eileen and disappeared into another flash of light. In its place was a sleek silver pendant; it fell into her open palm, glistening brilliantly. Eileen held it up, dangling it in the air—

3 3 3

"I guess it's not looking too good," Henry said in the corridor outside Mary's room. James shook his head.

"No," he said thickly. "They must have been keeping it a secret because—because not even Elle knew. Who knows how bad it really is."

Henry clasped James' shoulder and flashed him a smirk. "Hey, there's no reason to get so down in the dumps. She can still pull through."

James met his gaze and shrugged. "I guess."

"No, I'm fucking right," Henry said, jamming a finger into his face. "You listen to me, James. You and Mary are going to enjoy a lot of sweet, sweet baby-making. You're going to have a fuckload of kids, and I'm going to be the deadbeat, drunk-off-his-ass best pal who sleeps in your attic. Alright? That sound good?"

"You'll sleep in the basement, if I have anything to say about it," James said, smiling, and Henry chuckled.

"Fine by me—just as long as I get to eat Mrs. Sunderland's scrumptious pot roast." He pulled away from James, sighing. "I swear to you, James, on my goddamn honor, that Mary will live. You're going to live a happy life, I fucking guarantee it."

"Thanks," James said. "It's just—a lot to deal with."

"You're telling me." Henry turned and looked out the window at the mist. "Listen, James—I wanted to talk to you about what's going on. We both know this isn't just some normal fog. Something's fucked up. I think it's the Order."

"What about Heather?" James asked.

Henry shrugged nonchalantly. "She's probably stuck somewhere with a log up her ass. I mean, if we could depend on her, I wouldn't be here. I'd be sleeping in."

"You still won't give her a break, will you?"

"'Course not," Henry said. "That'd be the reasonable thing to do."

James leaned against the wall and scratched at his chin. "Well, if it is the Order, then what does it mean?"

"It means something happened to Heather."

The two boys looked to the end of the hall and found Eileen standing there, two orbs of light circling her head. Her expression was steely; Henry smirked at her.

"You look pretty serious, for a change," he said. She pointed up to the ceiling.

"Come on. I need to talk to you guys about something."

"Talk about what?"

"Just follow me."

James glanced towards Mary's room, glimpsing Laura inside, and nodded. "Alright," he said. "I'll go with you." He turned to Henry, who shrugged and gestured to Eileen.

"Whatever," he said. "Lead the way."

They followed her to the stairwell and up to the roof, where the fog persisted. Through the haze, Henry and James watched as Eileen walked to the center of the roof, her sneakers pattering quietly. "What are we doing up here, Eileen?" he asked. "What the hell is going on?"

"Are you always so impatient?" demanded Arthur, who flew over to him. Henry reared back and scowled.

"What are you? Another fairy thing?"

"We came to find Eileen," Selina said, hovering above them. "The princess—Heather—has been captured by the Order."

"Captured?" James repeated, surprised. "How did that happen?"

"Spare me the details," Henry said. "If that's all you wanted to tell us, then why'd we come out here? We're just wasting time."

"There's something I wanted to show you," Eileen said, raising her hand. The silver pendant fell through her fingers and swayed in the air. "Heather's somewhere in Silent Hill," she went on. "She needs our help."

Henry stepped forward, crying out indignantly. "No way! Eileen, don't you _fucking_ do it! _Don't you fucking_—" The pendant opened, bright white light pouring out of it, breaking through the fog. Henry uttered one last cry as he and James shielded their eyes.

"_GODDAMN IT, EILEEN_!"

The light enveloped her, materializing as the familiar uniform. The gloves appeared, now purple. The boots formed, now a baby blue, as were the shoulder pads and her belt and choker. The emblazoned heart on her chest glimmered a bright pink, a beacon of truth and justice. At last the light faded, trailing up around her into the sky. A ray of sunlight shone down from the broken clouds, and the fog surrounding them had dissipated. James' brow shot up; Henry fell to his knees in defeat.

"There are some lines we don't goddamn cross," he muttered, looking up at the fairies. "Do you know what you've done? Do you have any fucking idea? Some people just shouldn't have power like this!"

Arthur turned to Selina, dumbfounded. "What is he talking about?"

"I'm not sure," she said. Below them, Eileen studied her new attire, clenching her fists, feeling the rubber straining, feeling the incredible power resting at her fingertips. She looked up, a sick, twisted smile spreading out over her face, and licked her lips lasciviously.

"Just call me—_Magnum Heart_," she said, eyes sparkling darkly. "**Fuck yeah**."

**END EPISODE 15**

**A new hero has emerged! Now wielding the greatest power known to man, Eileen makes a bid to save Heather from Dahlia's clutches—and she's not going alone! Henry and his friends join her on the rescue mission, but what dangers will stand in their way?**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 16: Infiltrating the Ghost Town! To Silent Hill!"**

"**MAGNUM HEART, bitches! **_**Yeah**_**!"**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	16. Infiltrating the Ghost Town!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 16: Infiltrating the Ghost Town! To Silent Hill!**

"What are you doing, Alex?"

Josh peeked into his brother's bedroom, the orange light of the evening slanting through the window, catching sight of Alex kneeling before the dresser, folding jeans and t-shirts into a travel bag beside him. Alex looked back and put on a reassuring smile.

"Hey," he said. "You need something, Josh?"

The younger boy shook his head and walked in, eyeing the bag suspiciously. He looked his brother over, noting the heavy burgundy jacket he was wearing and the flashlight in his pocket. "Are you going somewhere?"

Alex hesitated, glancing at the bag, and slowly nodded. "You got me," he said quietly, smiling. "I'm taking a trip with some friends. We're leaving pretty soon."

"Oh. Do Mom and Dad know?"

"No, they don't," Alex said, hardening his gaze. Josh recognized the implication and nodded.

"Okay," he said, "I won't tell them."

Alex grinned and patted the boy on the shoulder. "Thanks. I really owe you one when I get back."

"You sure do," Josh said, laughing, turning, when he saw something else—the dark end of a barrel sticking out from under a shirt. He looked to Alex, eyes wide, but his brother's stony expression only grew harder. "Dad—Dad doesn't know you took it," he said.

Alex nodded. "That's right, and it's going to stay that way. You never saw it."

"But—"

"It's okay," Alex said. "He won't think you took it, anyway, and since I'll be gone—you'll be fine. I'll take the heat when I get back."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Josh said. Alex chuckled.

"Hey, don't worry," he reassured him. "I'll be fine. It's just in case."

"Just in case what? Where are you going?"

"Just in case," Alex repeated. He stood up and zipped the bag close. "I'll be leaving before Mom and Dad get back. Remember, you never saw me."

"But what do I tell them?"

"You never saw me," said Alex again. He ruffled his brother's hair. "Don't look at me like that. I told you I'll be back. So, will you do this for me?"

Josh nodded, smirking. "Yeah. You just better come back."

"Thanks, bro," Alex said before turning towards the window. "I'm going to go load this in the car. Keep an eye out, okay?" He left, slinging the bag over his shoulder. Josh watched him make his way towards the car from the window. As Alex reached the door, someone else emerged from the fog ahead of him.

"Elle," he said. She approached him, hands in the pockets of her small jacket, and smiled.

"Hey."

"I guess Henry told you, too," Alex said, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Look, Alex—"

He held out a hand to silence her. "Don't try to stop me. I'm going. I can't just sit here and let all of this happen. If Henry and Eileen are going, then I have to help. Otherwise, what's going to happen? This fog will spread—those monsters will be everywhere. Whether I die here or there, it'll be the same."

"You're not going to die," she said, "because I'm going with you."

"Elle, you—wait, what did you say?"

She giggled. "I'm going with you, dummy. I'm not letting you leave me here while you're out risking your life."

"It's too dangerous," he said. "Elle, you'll be safer here."

She scowled and clicked her tongue. "Do you know how hypocritical that is? You said it yourself—if we don't do something, those monsters are going to come eventually. I'd rather be out there with you." She stared into his eyes determinedly. "Please, Alex. I want to help."

He held his own for a moment before relenting with a sigh. "Alright," he said, chuckling. "Once you get fixed on something, there's no changing your mind, is there?"

"No," she replied, smiling. She motioned towards the car. "Now, come on. We need to go pick up Henry."

"Yeah," he said, nodding, and they climbed in.

3 3 3

The radio emitted nothing but static. Eileen turned the dial of the stereo with a frown, draped in nothing but a towel, her hair wet and dripping, the same white noise crackling from the speakers. "Well," she sighed, flipping open the disc slot, "I guess it's Chopin time." She slid the disc in, shut the slot, and pressed "play."

Classical piano filled her room as she wordlessly dressed, calmly strapping on a bra and stepping into some panties. She fit a pair of black jeans on and buttoned a white dress blouse, over which she zippered a black leather jacket. Her fingers slid through a pair of fingerless gloves, and she clenched her fists satisfyingly. "_Yeah_."

"Don't you think she's overdoing it?" Arthur asked as she made her way to the door. Beside him, Selina shrugged.

"It's a lot of responsibility," she said. "Maybe this is her way of coping."

"Yeah, whatever." He flew around to Eileen's face. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going by Heather's house," the girl said before glancing up at Selina. "You said they took care of Mr. Mason, so—all that leaves is Chip. I mean, someone's got to feed him. Heather would chew me out if something happened to him while she was gone."

The fairies exchanged looks, disturbed by her demeanor. Eileen walked out onto the porch, squinting out at the crimson, hazy sky. A short click caught her attention, and she turned right towards the Townshend household. Henry sat on the stoop, his new camera in his hands. He pointed it up, training it on something in the distance.

"What are you doing?" Eileen asked, approaching him. He lowered the camera and studied it thoughtfully.

"I was testing it out," he said quietly. "But this fucking fog is too thick. To take pictures you need clarity, you know—both inside and out."

"Is that a new one?" She sat beside him, her hands sandwiched between her legs. He nodded, turning it over.

"Yeah. Piece of shit compared to ol' Jim, but"—he raised it for another aimless shot—"I can dick around with it." He looked out at the mist and smiled. "I haven't taken any pictures since all this shit started. It feels _good_ to have a camera again."

She listened to him, saying nothing. He sighed.

"I just wish it was a little clearer," he went on. "From right here, you can see the butterflies in the spring." He held out a hand, palm jutted outward, fingers spread, and waved about over the space above the trees. "Tons of them. Migrating, I guess, or whatever the hell they do. It looks amazing. But now it's just fucked up, and I might not even get to see them this year."

He felt a pressure on his arm and turned to find Eileen leaning against him, her hands clutching at the sleeve of his jacket. "You'll get to see them," she said softly. "We'll see them together. I promise."

"How can you be so sure? Just because you're the new Princess Heart—"

"_Magnum_ Heart."

"—_Magnum_ Heart, doesn't mean you're invincible. You can't get cocky."

"I'm not cocky," she said. "I can feel it, Henry. It's inside of me now. All the power, all the potential—" She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "There's something I got to tell you. The truth is, I've been in love with you for a long time, since we were kids."

He was mum, his gaze focused on the sky. "I just thought you should know," she continued, her voice wavering. "I don't think that's ever going to change."

"Don't be stupid," he chuckled after a moment, surprising her. "I'm no good for you, Eileen."

"You're the one being stupid," she said. Through the fog, a pair of headlights shone forth. Alex and Elle drove up, and Henry and Eileen stood.

"It's go time," he said, turning to her. "No going back after this."

"Better make a backup save," she said and smiled. "There's still something I have to do."

"Me, too. Meet us at the hospital."

"Okay."

With that, Henry slipped the strap of his camera over his neck and went down to meet his friends. Eileen watched them disappear back into the mist, her expression steely. Selina twirled about her head in worry.

"Are you all right?" she asked, and the girl nodded.

"Yeah. I'm actually better than ever."

3 3 3

James stared out at the thickening fog, apprehension seizing him. Behind him in the hospital room, Laura sat with her head down on the bedside, sleeping. Mary followed his gaze to the window, aimlessly stroking the younger girl's hair.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?"

He turned to her and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. You can't even see through it now." He looked back out and sighed. "It probably won't be long before it spreads everywhere."

"James," she said. "What's going to happen to us?"

He mustered a smile and took her hand. "Hey, it's going to be okay," he said. "Nothing's going to happen to you, Mary."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" she asked, stumbling into a flurry of coughs.

James started and hurried over to the nearby nightstand and poured her a cup of water. "Here," he said, holding it to her lips. She gulped much of it down, clearing her throat, and smiled.

"Thank you."

He nodded and handed her the cup; she looked down into the depths of the water reflectively.

"I won't even be able to eat my own food soon enough," she said despondently, "or drink my own water."

James said nothing and instead pressed her hand, the only thing he could think to do. She returned the squeeze, but her fingers were weak and unwilled. She did not face him.

"It'll be okay," he said. A knock at the door caught his attention, and he turned to see Henry enter. James met his gaze and understood; he gave Mary a final weak smile. "I'll be right back. Keep an eye on Laura."

"Yeah," she said, watching him walk out into the hallway. Outside, James found Henry waiting for him, along with Alex and Elle. The girl glanced towards the door.

"I'm going to see Mary for a little bit," she said, looking between the boys. "You don't mind, do you, James?"

He shook his head, and, with a small smile, she walked inside. Once they were alone, James turned to Henry and sighed. "Let me guess," he said. "You're going."

"Yep," Henry said plainly. He jerked a thumb towards Alex. "They're going, too."

"Really?" James asked, and Alex nodded.

"We don't have much choice," he said. "I hooked up an old shortwave radio my dad has, and I managed to get a signal. This fog's been spreading ever since last night. The whole county's covered; everything in the area of Silent Hill is swamped. Brahms is basically shut down. There's no power, no way to get in touch with anything. It won't be long before the same thing happens here."

"In other words, this is our last shot," Henry said with a grin. "We clean up this mess once and for all or we're fucked. No way around it."

James turned away, screwing up his eyes. "How long do we have?" he queried tiredly, and Alex shrugged.

"I really couldn't tell you. Maybe the night. And, according to what those fairies were saying—those monsters might not be too far behind."

Henry stepped forward and took James by the shoulder. "We've got to do this, man," he said, looking into his eyes. "The shit has hit the fan, and it's not stopping."

"I can't—I can't just leave," James said suddenly. He cast a hopeless glance towards Mary's room. "I can't just go and leave her here alone. I mean, what are our chances, really? Even if Eileen can become Princess Heart, it still wasn't enough to stop them before. Whether we stay here or go, there's no way we can win!"

"I know what you mean," Alex said. "Josh, Mom, Dad—they're going to be stuck here. But if those demons come, James—"

"We're going to die either way," Henry interrupted nonchalantly, folding his arms. He smirked dryly. "It's a bitch, but what can you do?"

James shook his head in despair. "It's not fair," he whispered. "If I go with you, who—what—"

"Hey, chin up," Henry said, jabbing a finger at James and smiling. "I told you you were going to live a long and happy life with Mary, didn't I? That's can still happen, James, but you got to want it. Do you?"

The other boy nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, "I do."

"Then what's the fucking problem?" Henry replied with a toothy grin. "You got something to fight for. Alex and Elle have something to fight for, too—hell, even Eileen does. Me, well, I've got nothing better to do, and I sure as hell am not going to stay here and wait for those Order assholes to come knocking at my door. So I say we go and give 'em a run for their money while we can."

James said nothing for a moment, his eyes downward, and at last he spoke. "Alright," he said quietly. "Just—give me a few minutes."

"We'll be downstairs," Alex said, glancing towards the door. "I'll—I'll see her when we get back." He patted James on the shoulder as he passed him by, and Henry flashed him a confident smirk before following.

James walked back inside the room, interrupting the hushed conversation over the bed. Elle turned to him, her and Mary's smiles fading. "It's time?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess so." She nodded and touched Mary's hand.

"Got to go," she said. "Hang in there."

"I will," Mary said, smiling. "Thanks, Elle." The other girl strode past James into the hall, and Mary glanced at him, her eyes tired and bleary. Her little smile faltered. "Are you leaving?" she asked him.

"I won't go if you don't want me to," he said, moving over to the bedside. "I'll stay here, Mary. You just have to say the word."

A weak laugh escaped her lips. "I thought you'd say something like that," she said, "but I don't want you to stay just because of me. I'm not important, James."

"Of course you are," he murmured. "You're important to _me_, Mary."

"I'm going to die, James," she said calmly, without any trepidation. It stunned him, forcing him into silence. She glanced down at Laura sleeping and ran her fingers through the girl's blonde locks. "There's got to be more to it than just me."

"Mary—"

"You know it's true, James. I'm glad you feel the way you do—really. It makes me—it makes me happy. But it's going to be over soon. And when it is, I don't want you to be alone." She looked up at him, smiling as best she could. "You've got Laura and all your friends—you have so much. Don't throw it away because of me."

James shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "You can't just give up," he breathed. "Mary. Please."

"I'm not giving up," she said. "But—I have to be realistic. One day I won't be here, and I don't want you to forget that you have so much else." She took his hand and rubbed the backside with her thumb. "So go—and be careful."

For a moment James only stared at her, silent, subdued, but slowly he nodded. "I will," he said. "I'll be back soon. Take care of Laura while I'm gone."

"Sure," she said. They parted, and James walked out, his shoulders suddenly heavy but his head clear. He heard Henry's words in his mind, clear: "That can still happen, James, but you got to want it."

Silently he made his way to the downstairs lobby, where Henry, Alex, and Elle waited. They looked to him, and he nodded firmly. "Let's go," he said.

3 3 3

"Guess it's true," Elle said, rotating the radio dial. Nothing but static crackled from the speakers, and she shut it off. "It's all cut off."

Beside her in the driver's seat, Alex peered out at the unfolding darkness, the headlights of his car piercing the thick mist. Henry groaned in the backseat, sandwiched between James and Eileen. "Just plug in an iPod, or something," he said. "Doesn't this thing have an auxiliary port, Alex?"

"Nope," Alex said, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. "Sorry."

"Fuck me." Henry crossed his arms, fidgeting impatiently. "You shouldn't have gotten such a small car, Alex, Jesus—I feel like a fucking sardine."

"Well, I never expected I'd be driving all of us into the bowels of hell," Alex chuckled. "You've got to bear with me, man."

Eileen turned to Henry, eyes slits and lips curved in a devilish smile. "I can sit on your lap, Henry-poo," she cooed, sliding a hand along his inner thigh, and he curtly scooted away, grimacing.

"Oh, Lord," he moaned. "Drive faster, Alex!"

"We're still a ways off," Alex said, glancing to Elle, who had a map unfolded over her lap. "How far are we?"

She punched a light on overhead, and a small yellow glow illuminated the darkness. "I think we've got maybe thirty minutes," she said, flattening out the wrinkles and creases of the aged paper. "We already passed Pleasant River, right? It shouldn't be much longer now." She stowed the map away and turned back to Eileen. "So, once we get there, what're we going to do? Do you know where they have Mason?"

A series of muffled noises sounded from within Eileen's jacket; she unzipped a pocket, allowing the two entrapped fairies to fly out. "I take it back," Arthur said. "I'm _not_ going back in there."

"They took the princess at the church," Selina said, ignoring him. "That's where that woman is, I'm sure. She'll be there."

"Woman?" asked Elle, and the fairy bobbed up in down in affirmation.

"The Order's leader," she answered. "Dahlia."

"The fuck type of name is 'Dahlia?'" blurted Henry, but his dark grin faded. "So she's the one behind all this shit. Good. I can't wait to put her in an early grave."

"So it's true," Alex said, sighing. "It's going to come down to that, isn't it?"

"Fuck yeah it is," Henry said. "It's kill or be killed now, my friends. These guys are playing for keeps." He smacked a fist into an open palm. "And they're going to pay for everything they've done."

Eileen nodded, her own hand tightening into a tight ball. "Hell yeah," she muttered out of earshot.

"You guys have gone through a lot more than I have," Elle said. "After what happened at prom, I don't know—it just really hit me. It wasn't just something you sort of heard on the news, or you saw on TV. Those monsters—what Mr. Wolf did—it was all real. We could've died."

"It'll be okay," Alex said. "We've made it this far, right? We'll make it out somehow."

Throughout all of this, James sat in silence, his eyes lost in the murky shadows rolling past. Henry nudged him with an elbow. "Hey, James, you okay?"

"Yeah," said James. "I'm just thinking."

"About Mary?"

"Well." James sighed. "I wish I'd known sooner. I could've—could've done something, you know?"

"It was out of your hands," Henry said. "But you've got her now. So keep your head up."

James nodded, about to speak, when the car ground to a halt. "What the fuck was that?" Henry shouted, rubbing the back of his head.

"I don't know," Alex said, turning the ignition fruitlessly. "It just—_stopped_. I can't get it back on."

"I'll check it out," Elle said, opening her door and working around to the hood of the car. Alex got out, as well, switching on a flashlight as he did so. The others waited, and after a moment, Henry groaned.

"I've got to stretch," he said and wormed his way out. James and Eileen waited behind, the latter occupied by the fairies before her.

"You guys okay?" she asked.

"Are we okay?" Arthur asked back in annoyance. "Can't you feel it? Demons are all over the place! They're getting closer!"

"Demons?" James turned to Eileen, whose jaw was tight. She stepped outside and scanned the shadows.

"Are you sure?" she inquired of the fairies.

"Yes," Selina replied. "They're coming. They must have found out we were approaching."

Meanwhile, at the front of the car, Alex shone a flashlight onto the engine, frowning. "I don't see a problem," he muttered to Elle, who stood beside him. "There's nothing wrong. I don't understand it at all."

"Maybe it has something to do with the—uh—you know—"

"Silent Hill?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Henry stepped up behind them, flipping his own flashlight in his hand. "So what's going on?" he asked, receiving a despondent shake of the head in response.

"We'll have to go on foot," Alex replied, sighing. "There's nothing I can do."

"Sorry, man," Henry said. "I know you cared a lot about the old girl."

"I'll count my blessings," Alex said. "We should probably get moving—"

A loud burst of static thundered from the inside of the car, startling all of them. "It's just the radio!" James called, turning it off.

"I thought I turned it off," Elle said, tapping her chin, when suddenly Eileen ran out into the open.

"Guys, get back in the car!" she cried. "They're coming!"

"Who's coming?" Alex asked, raising the flashlight and doubling back in fright. Advancing from all around them were hideous, grotesque creatures of all shapes and sizes. Flying demons circled above, and bloodied, skinned dogs yipped and howled. Hulking abominations brought up the rear, some covered in fur and others rotten and decaying.

"So, they finally decided to show up!" Henry exclaimed. "It's about time! I was getting bored!"

"Sorry if I don't see it the same way," Alex said, drawing the gun from within his jacket. He turned to Eileen frantically. "You can take these guys?"

"Sure," she said calmly, walking forward and grinning. "You all just sit back and watch."

"We'll leave it to you, then," Alex said, grabbing Elle by the arm and heading inside the car. He looked back to Henry. "Hey, let's go! Henry!"

The other boy stood his ground, face set. "I'm done running away!" he yelled. "I'll stay out here and enjoy the show!"

"Damn it, Henry—"

"It's okay," Eileen said, glancing back. "Let him do what he wants. He won't get hurt." She faced the oncoming demons and licked her lips. "They won't even get ten feet closer." She took the locket between her fingers and raised her head to the air. "Did you hear that, demons? I will be your opponent! I'm the one you want!"

"She seems a little too excited," Arthur said from above. "Don't tell me this is what she wanted from the beginning."

Selina shook her head, watching the scene anxiously. "Get ready!" Eileen cried, flicking the locket open, a bright light shining forth from within. Immediately the demons responded and rushed straight at her, roaring and snarling. "It's showtime!" Eileen yelled, laughing. "_Let's rock_!"

A giant, pink, heart-shaped explosion erupted around her, driving back the first wave of demons. From the car, James, Alex, and Elle looked on as the light faded, leaving Eileen donning the familiar uniform. "Her color scheme's blue?" Elle wondered aloud.

The demons regarded her reluctantly, staying on the edge of the circle they comprised around the girl, and Eileen clicked her tongue. "What's wrong?" she goaded. "Scared? I'm not surprised." Suddenly, she struck a series of poses, flashing her hands about in a variety of gang sings. "Magnum Heart's on the scene, baby! _Yeah_!"

"Shut the fuck up and do something!" Henry cried at her, and she turned and pouted at him.

"I'm just having fun, Henry—"

A dog growled and lunged at her. Henry's complacency broke at the sight of the attack. "Eileen, watch out!"

She turned back just in time to see the horrendous, split-jawed maw latch onto her face. She fell to the ground, the demon dog mauling her, tearing and ripping her face to shreds. The others watched in utter horror, their faces white, unable to even look away.

"Oh, my God!" Elle cried, covering her eyes. Alex and James each let out grunts of horror. Even Henry felt his knees buckle and his heart drop.

"Eileen—"

But then they all heard another noise beneath the sounds of the dog's frenzied growling and snarling. It was laughter—Eileen's laughter. She was laughing. As the dog bit at her face, she laughed—laughed tremendously, in fact. "No, stop!" she managed to utter, giggling and tittering. "Down, boy! Down!"

The dog finally reared back, allowing her to get to her feet. Everyone, humans, demons, and fairies alike, watched expectantly as Eileen giggled and wiped at her face. "Bad doggie!" she huffed. "Now I'm covered in demon saliva!"

The dog whined, its ears back, as Eileen sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, I guess I'll have to get you back for that," she said, and with an unexpected, lightning-like burst of speed, she punted it off far into the sky, where it disappeared into a brief twinkle.

All was silent. Eileen let out a contented breath and wiped off her hands. "So," she said, smiling and looking over the remaining mobs of demons. "Who's next?"

The demons let out a collective, ear-splitting roar and charged. "I like volunteers!" Eileen cried energetically, bounding forward to meet them. She ran into the midst of the fray, punching and kicking, killing demons left and right. She hopped back, gloves and boots dripping with blood, and pinched her fingers together, cupping each hand into a blade shape.

"Praying Mantis style!" she cried, swiping at the creatures before her, slicing through them effortlessly, black blood spewing forth all around her. An Insane Cancer lumbered up behind her, prepared to smother her with its enormous girth, but she quickly whirled around and drove a fist into its gut. With a dark, animalistic lick of the lips, she jerked her hand out, eviscerating the monster and pulling its innards out into the air.

"Guess you won't need liposuction now!" she cried giddily, hysterically, and wrapped her arms around the demon's stubby legs. With a mighty roar, she spun in place, gaining momentum, and hurled the giant demon into the crowd, crushing several other enemies in the process. More of the beasts advanced, and she laughed excitedly, drawing her hands to her face and pulling in her fingers to her palms.

"Roaring Bloodthirsty Tiger style!" She launched herself forward, literally swiping away patches of flesh and meat to the asphalt, where they simmered and crackled. She leapt into the air, flapping her arms wildly like wings. "Crazy Crane style!" she exclaimed, kicking and squawking and exploding heads.

From up above, a swarm of flying demons swooped down. Eileen looked up, eyes glowing pink. "Sexy beam, bitches!" A volley of magenta blasts shot forth, homing in on the flyers and ripping through them. An assortment of apelike demons and Gum Heads next came forward, crowding her, beating at their chests and howling.

Eileen faced them, beating her own chest, hooting and hollering. One Gum Head snuck up behind her, but with a sudden flip she was behind it, her arms chained around its abdomen. "How about you eat some _dirt_!" she cried, performing a thundering suplex and crushing the demon's head into the asphalt of the highway. She flipped back up, just in time to skillfully dodge a flurry of swipes and slashes. She swatted an arm away, stunning the monster, and drew back her fist. "Epic Fist of Death!"

She punched forward, a massive pink projection of a fist manifesting and obliterating the remaining demons in front of her. Still more approached from the fog, and she grinned.

"I'm glad you all were able to make it to the concert!" she exclaimed, strumming the air; a pink electric guitar materialized in her arms, and she twirled around and shot a fist into the sky to the sound of cheering and applause, fireworks exploding behind her. "Let's get _crazy_!"

She riffed on the guitar, the strings literally catching fire, and pulses of pink and purple flew out and decimated the first wave of attacking demons. The creatures roared in indignation and defiance and hurriedly hulked towards her. She struck the strings again, the high pitch of the guitar filling the air, and a huge barrier of bright pink surrounded her and vaporized the monsters. A remaining demon, one of its arms and legs each missing, tried to crawl away. Eileen stood in its path, grinning down madly at it.

"Going somewhere?" she laughed and swung the butt of the guitar into the demon's head, killing it instantly. With a sigh, she shouldered the instrument and surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction—countless corpses littered the highway, steaming and melting. She waved a hand in front of her nose, frowning. "Smells like shit."

"Eileen!" Selina cried. "Watch out! There are more coming!"

"More?" Eileen repeated, turning to find a trio of humongous Calibans approaching. She snickered at them. "Guess you guys were late to the party," she said, parting her matted bangs. "Don't worry—we've still got _lots_ of fun left!" She threw the guitar into the air and jumped with it, spinning around, her uniform fading into light, a white tennis uniform left in its wake. She tipped her visor, squinting at the three huge monsters, and caught a heart-shaped racket as it fell back down from where the guitar had been.

"Let's seal it with a kiss!" she shouted, lobbing a bright, glittering sphere of light into the air. "In the name of truth, justice, love, and happiness, _go eat shit_! Finishing blow: _Power Shot_!"

**!****豪華****!**

She swatted the sphere of light at the demons, and it enveloped them in a massive, violent explosion. Eileen touched down, gracefully skidding on her tennis shoes, her tennis skirt swaying about her hips. "And that's a wrap," she sighed, the uniform dissipating and leaving her in her normal clothes. Silence reigned as the air settled.

Behind her, Henry sat against the car, eyes wide. Slowly, gradually, he rose up, a smile widening on his lips. "Now _that's_ what I've been waiting to see," he muttered.

"Are we still alive?" Elle asked dumbly. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" She pinched her hand and winced. "Yeah, I'm definitely not."

"I don't know whether to be scared or happy," Alex said. "I mean—what—how—who—what did we just see?"

"Maybe we _shouldn't_ have given it to her," Arthur said from behind a tree, cowering with Selina. The other fairy only watched the girl step forward and lash out at the air with a hand.

"Don't worry, Heather," Eileen said, smiling, and clenched her fist. "I'm coming for ya'."

**END EPISODE 16**

**Eileen, Henry, and the others finally reach Silent Hill, but the Order springs a deadly trap! Separated and alone, the friends must face their fears in a desperate fight for survival!**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 17: The Shifting Labyrinth!"**

**Who will make it out alive?**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	17. The Shifting Labyrinth!

"They say a man's life is shaped by his actions."

Eileen stares at the camera, wearing a flimsy tuxedo and bowtie, cast in monochrome. Between the fingers of her left hand simmers a cigarette. She raises it to her lips for a drag and blows out a thin wisp of gray.

"Up 'till now, I've been a bystander. I never had the power to do anything—to help anyone." She looks off and lowers the cigarette. "But now that's changed. Finally, I can fight—I can change what's in front of me. I don't need to accept my destiny. I can make my own."

She raises her other hand, revealing a revolver. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do," she says, dragging a last time. "I'm going to tear shit up, and no one's going to stop me." She thumbs the gun and trains it on the camera.

"Now the real show starts."

Bang.

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 17: The Shifting Labyrinth!**

"So, this is Silent Hill."

The first meager rays of dawn had emerged and illuminated the fog as the group of teenagers made their way into the town. Alex and Henry led the party, barely able to make out the abandoned storefronts and buildings surrounding them. Bringing up the rear was Eileen, who bent over and sucked in huge breaths of air.

"Hey," she stammered, "can we _please_ take a break? We made it, so—"

"No," Henry said sharply.

"_Pretty_ please—"

"No," he said again, glancing back at her. "Come on, Eileen—don't tell me big ol' Magnum Heart's tired after a little walk?"

"Am not," she huffed, straightening up and crossing her arms. A loud rumble caught their attention, and they all turned to Eileen, who blushed. "Guess that ass-kicking left me hungry," she giggled, patting her stomach.

Alex grinned and produced a wrapped bar from his bag. "Here," he said, lobbing it to her. "We're going to need you on a full stomach."

"Thanks, dog," Eileen replied, ripping off the wrapper and quickly gobbling it down. Both boys reared back in surprise.

"Jesus," Henry muttered. "Don't bite your fucking fingers off."

"I told you I was hungry," she said, licking her lips. "You have another one of those, Alex?"

Meanwhile, Elle peered out at the town, shivering. "This place is so eerie," she murmured. "You just know something's wrong. There's no life."

James said nothing, keeping pace with the others. Henry raised his head to the two fairies above them. "Hey, bumblebees," he said, "where do we go now?"

"The church," Selina answered. "If we follow—"

"_Bumblebees_?" Arthur retorted, flying in front of Henry's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, fuck off," Henry sighed. "It's a term of endearment."

"Let it be, Arthur," Selina said. "This isn't the time for fighting."

"You're too soft," the other fairy countered irritably. "It's no wonder that girl got beat."

Selina paused, bowing her head. Arthur looked back at her, annoyed, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, what now? Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Hey, mind your manners, little boy!" Eileen shot, pointing a finger at him. "All you've been doing is bitchin' and moanin' the whole way here. At least Selina's trying her best to help!"

"What do you know?" the fairy spat at her. "You've no idea what Alessa and I have had to go through! If that stupid girl hadn't been so weak, Alessa wouldn't be dead! None of this would ever have happened! And you want to know why? You want to know what caused it? If Selina hadn't coddled the little kid, she wouldn't have been so reckless!"

"That's enough," Eileen said coolly, but Selina only shook her head.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "It is my fault. I should have never let the princess go in the way she was. I—"

"All of you just shut the fuck up!" Henry moaned. "God_damn_ are you a bunch of pity-whores. We're here now, so enough with the crying. We have a job to do."

"He's right," Alex said. "We can't be fighting amongst ourselves now. We—"

The sudden shrill sound of an air raid siren interrupted him. They turned in circles, frantically searching for the source of the noise. "What is that?" Elle cried, covering her ears. A rumbling beneath their feet drew Henry's attention; he looked down and gasped.

"The street!" he yelled. "Watch out!"

The asphalt caved in, rupturing and breaking apart. The group scattered, the massive gap in the street widening as they scrambled for safety. Around them buildings shook and crumbled, until at last the siren ceased and the quake subsided. When the dust had literally settled, the party was separated—Henry and Alex on one side of the gigantic, gaping hole, James and Elle on another, and Eileen with the fairies beyond them.

"What a piece of dick," Henry muttered harshly, placing his hands on his knees and peering into the abyss below, his camera dangling from his neck. Some pieces of debris fell from the edge and vanished into the darkness. He let out a whistle. "Sure goes down a hell of a ways."

"What are we going to do?" Elle asked fearfully, looking from Eileen's side to that of the boys. Alex sighed and shook his head.

"There's no way we're getting across," he said. He squinted out into the fog and let out a breath. "We're going to have to split up and meet somewhere later on."

"That's crazy!" exclaimed Elle. "We're goners out there! We're no match for those things!"

Alex sighed again and bit his tongue; he withdrew the handgun from his jacket and threw it over the chasm to Elle. She caught it, fumbling, and then raised it up uncertainly. "Alex, what—" Her eyes went hard and she firmly shook her head. "No way," she said. "No way you're giving this to me."

"You'll be safer with it," he replied, smiling. "Come on. Don't argue with me now, Elle. You keep her safe, James."

"Sure," James said curtly. "But what about you guys?"

"We'll figure something out," Alex said. Henry turned off in Eileen's direction, her form hidden by the fog.

"You alive over there, Magnum Heart?" he called.

"Yep," she chirped back. "I should probably tell you guys that, well, I can't go with you."

"And why's that?" Henry asked, only to turn and find a web of dark vines rising from the abyss and forming a rigid wall at the edge of the broken street. "Well, suck my balls," he chuckled, watching the vines form a barrier, truly separating the three splinter groups. "I guess we've been denied."

"Whoever's writing this story isn't going to make this easy," Eileen said, looking up to the sky.

"Then we'll just have to play along for now," Henry remarked. "Hey, Jamesy, there one on your end, too?"

The other boy nodded, despite being invisible to the others. "We're definitely stuck."

"Alright, then," Henry said to himself. "Guess it's time to get crackin'."

On her end, Elle ran to the end of the street. "Alex!" she shouted, and he turned her way, smirking.

"I'll see you later, Elle," he returned, and she nodded.

"Yeah. See you later."

Alex glanced further up the way. "You be careful, too, Eileen," he said, and Henry laughed.

"Save your breath," he said. "She's the one with the god powers."

"I suppose you're right," Alex said, his smile fading. "Okay. Let's go."

3 3 3

The office was musty and the air stagnant, a thick layer of dust coating the walls and furniture. Michael Kaufmann stared out of one of the windows, dim white light painting his wrinkled face. Behind him, the door opened and shut.

"We have it, sir," spoke one of the men who had walked in, his voice muffled under the heavy mask and helmet he wore. Kaufmann turned to the duo, both of them dressed in heavy, faded yellow mining gear, and smiled.

"That's good to hear," he said. "And what of the Holy Mother?"

The man who had first spoke reached up and removed his helmet, revealing cropped black hair and an unruly scruff. He rubbed at his jaw and sighed. "The church looks like hell. Whatever's going to happen is happening soon." He grunted. "We might want to get out while we can."

"Don't worry," Kaufmann said. "I've prepared for Dahlia's little plan with one of my own. It'll be fine. For now I want you to continue keeping tabs."

"But sir—"

"It'll be fine," Kaufmann said again, his tone harder than before. He put on another courteous smile. "If we run now, it'll all be for nothing. Don't you agree? Besides, I wouldn't keep you here if I knew your safety wasn't guaranteed."

The man hurriedly nodded. "Of course, sir. I didn't mean to question you."

Kaufmann dismissed the issue with a wave of the hand and then cleared his throat. "So, would you show it to me?"

"Oh—oh, yeah," the man said. He turned and gestured to his partner, who reached deep into his gear and produced a large, fragmented slab of stone, one side sporting a splintered engraving. Kaufmann's eyes brightened upon seeing it; he took it in his hands and admired it.

"How fantastic—I can feel the power trapped inside. Good job."

"Thank you, sir," said the other man quietly. Kaufmann sighed and turned back to the window.

"You can leave now," he said. "We'll rendezvous at the park at the time we discussed. For now I have some preparations to take care of."

"Yes, sir." Without another word, the men turned and left.

Kaufmann raised the slab up and grinned. "There's only one piece left, now that these two have reassembled," he said. "Soon we'll have everything necessary to turn the tide in our favor."

3 3 3

"Looks like we've been railroaded," Henry said, gazing upon the tall, broad building before them. Alex came up behind him and nodded.

"Looks like it."

All around them the roads had ruptured or sunk. The initial quake had not been the last—ever since the group had split up, the town had rearranged itself multiple times, quakes breaking apart roads and forcing together new ones.

"We don't have anywhere else to go," Alex said, pushing open the doors to the building. He raised his flashlight, training the beam of light into the lobby and dispelling the shadows. Henry entered and shut the doors, stifling a cough in the process.

"Ever heard of fucking dusters?" he groaned, waving a hand in the air. Alex glanced at him, smiling briefly, before throwing his light around.

"Who knows how long it's been like this," he said. The tiles, a murky green, were chipped and missing in places, revealing the drab gray of the foundation underneath. The windows were cracked and broken, the curtains still. The boys walked over to the reception desk, hoping for anything of use, but it was barren and dusty.

Alex reached out and took hold of a pamphlet; he blew off the dust coating it and raised it to the light. "This must've been a hotel," he said. "The Grand Hotel, if I'm reading it right."

"Not so grand now, that's for sure," Henry spat. "Come on, let's get the fuck out of here."

"We're going to have to go deeper in," Alex said. "There aren't any other ways outside." He shrugged. "Sorry, buddy."

Henry rolled his eyes and pulled out his own flashlight. "Whatever. Let's just make it quick."

They made their way through the lobby, at the end of the room finding an elevator. Alex tried the buttons to no avail. "Of course," he sighed. "No power."

"Guess we'll have to take the stairs," Henry said, but as they turned away, metal on metal screeched, and the doors of the elevator rolled open. The boys regarded the sight suspiciously, training their lights all around, searching for a cause. "Well," Henry started, licking his lips, "the normal rules of physics probably don't work in this goddamn place, right?"

"Probably not." Alex stepped inside, testing the elevator's stability. "Alright. It should be okay." Henry joined him and pressed a button on the nearby panel. The doors shut, dust falling loose, and the elevator began its slow ascent.

"Should take us to the second floor," Henry muttered, looking up. "What a piece of shit. I can already feel my allergies kicking."

"Do you think the others are okay?" asked Alex, and Henry shrugged.

"You gave 'em the gun."

"Yeah, but—you know what I mean. Of course I'm worried about Elle, but—James doesn't seem himself."

"He's probably still hung up on Mary," Henry replied. "Can't really blame him. Even if we blow this place to hell, she's still—well, you know."

"She'll be okay," Alex said. "Just have to have a little faith."

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened up to a dark corridor lined with rooms. The boys walked out warily, when a sudden whine pulled them back around. The cables suspending the elevator snapped, and the whole apparatus plummeted, crashing down below. Henry and Alex stared down at it, the color leaving their faces.

"Well, fuck me," Henry murmured. "Now what?"

"There's got to be stairs," Alex said, turning back. "Maybe a fire escape. We need to find a way out on the other end, after all."

"Yeah."

They moved on, inspecting rooms and finding nothing but broken mattresses and shattered mirrors. Craters adorned the walls, capping invisible tunnels. Henry snorted at them. "Doesn't bode well," he said as they reached an impasse—a high mountain of rubble blocked off the rest of the hall.

"For fuck's sake!" Henry cried, kicking at it. "This shit is getting old!"

"Keep your cool," Alex said, looking around. "If there's a way in, there's a way out."

"Yeah, if this wasn't a goddamn parallel dimension!" Henry seethed. "But go right ahead—find a way out."

"Actually, I think I have," Alex replied, peeking into a room. Henry looked over his shoulder and saw a hole in the floor, the wood warped and jagged at its edges. Beneath it, on the floor below, was a stack of debris. "We can use that to climb down," Alex said. "No problem, right?"

"Right," Henry said, sighing. "Fuck it. Let's do it." Slowly he dipped down into the hole, the toes of his shoes touching the debris.

"You're okay," Alex said, watching him drop down and nearly stumble. "Henry!"

"I'm fine," the other boy said, wiping off his jeans and inspecting his camera. "It's all good. You're turn now." He raised his head, catching sight of something behind Alex as he prepared to come down. The shadows shifted and moved. "Alex, there's something there!"

"What do you mean—" Alex glanced back, just in time to see a pink, spider-like creature, its limbs ending in blades, its head on its underside, swipe at him. He reared back, the blade slicing through the front of his jacket, and fell through the hole, landing hard on his back.

"Holy shit!" Henry exclaimed. "Alex, you all right?"

Alex let out a cough and sat up, wincing. "Yeah, I'm—I'm okay." Henry helped him to his feet, both of them looking up to see two more of the spider creatures join the other. The trio crawled down along the walls, their blades clinking on the wood and plaster.

"It doesn't make sense," Alex stammered. "Why are they coming out now?"

"Who gives a shit?" Henry said, pulling Alex's arm over his neck and throwing himself towards the door. "We have to move!"

They stumbled out into the hall and ran, their legs beating, the clinking following them relentlessly. "Fuck off, you bastards!" Henry snarled, reaching a fork in the path. Alex jerked his head to the right, and they hurried on, eventually barreling up a flight of stairs and reaching the next floor. They dashed through a door, turned, and shut it; as Henry held it closed, Alex grabbed a nearby drawer and, with a mighty cry, pushed it in front of the door, barring it.

Henry stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief. "Goddamn," he murmured, whacking his chest. "Talk about a rush."

"I don't think we're out of the woods yet," Alex said, watching the walls. "They could still get over here."

"Then we have to keep moving," Henry said. They turned, ready to go on, when it happened—the muffled whine of the siren reached them from somewhere beyond the hotel, and with it, the hotel began to change. The boys watched as the walls and floor deteriorated, the paint peeling off and melting, the dull blue becoming rust and crimson. The floor morphed into steel grating, the gray tinged with red.

Alex took a reluctant step forward, mouth agape. "What's happening?" he wondered aloud as the siren subsided. Henry looked around at their new surroundings and grunted.

"It's starting," he said.

3 3 3

"What was that?"

Elle whirled around, hearing the siren die out. Beside her, James had also tensed up, but the dilapidated hospital room remained just as it had been. The two opposing beds were broken and lacking sheets; the tile was stained and dark. The lone window in the room let in some dull, gray light.

"Something must be happening," James said. "Then again, this whole town is messed up. It keeps changing." He sighed. "Who knows? We might not find the others."

"Of course we will," Elle quickly said. She turned to him, determined, clutching the gun to her bosom like a lifeline. "Of course we'll find them. We have to."

Slowly he nodded, offering her a sheepish smile. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

He turned away, ready to leave the room, but Elle stopped him. "James—what's going on with you?"

He looked back, frowning. "Nothing's going on with me."

"Yes, there is," Elle said, sighing. "It's Mary. Ever since you found out she was sick, it's like you're—like you're dead." She reached out to him. "Listen, I know what it's like—"

"You have no idea," he suddenly snapped, batting her hand away. She backed away, surprised. He looked and sighed. "Sorry. It's just—it's just so _frustrating_." He balled a fist, the hand trembling. "It doesn't matter if we win or if we lose—she's still going to die. Even if we can save the world, we still can't save her."

"I know how you feel," Elle said. "Mary's my best friend, and she's the nicest person in the world. It shouldn't be her—she shouldn't have to go through this—but, I mean—you can't give up."

"Don't say that," he told her, eyes hard. "Don't tell me what I can't do. You and Henry and Alex and everybody—you guys think you can just _ignore_ everything and make it go away. You can't. It's not that easy. You can't just say things will be okay when they're not!"

"No one's ignoring anything!" Elle shot. "It hurts—it hurts _a lot_—knowing I can't do a thing to help her, but that doesn't mean I should just stop trying. James, you've got your whole life ahead of you—we all do. Are you going to spend it like this?"

"It's not right," James said, shaking his head. "It's not fair that she has to die while we get to live. Who decides that? Where does that come from? You can't tell me that's just the way life is, Elle—you can't. It's—well, hell, it's bullshit!"

The room darkened, the shadows growing thicker. Grime spread over the walls. "Mary—she shouldn't have to die like this," James went on. "If I could—if I could just—give _myself_ instead—I would. I'd die for her!"

Suddenly Elle raised a hand and slapped him. "Stop it, James," she said coldly. "Stop it. Please. Just stop it. Listen to what you're saying. Mary is not the only thing you have to live for!"

James' eyes widened—Mary's words echoed in his mind. He began to realize; the fog began to lift—the door opened. His heart closed, and he spun around, glimpsing the white of two legs moving in the hall. The intercom in the corridor crackled to life, and a broken, distorted voice spoke. "James," it whined, breaking and repairing, "James—I'm waiting for you. James."

"What's that?" Elle said, looking up and finding the room was dark, the walls now black and grimy. James ran out into the hallway, listening intently.

"James—I'm waiting—for you—waiting—for—wait—waiting—James—"

"It's—it's Mary!" he cried. "Mary! How—"

"Waiting—for you, James—waiting—you—"

"Where?" he asked. "Where are you?"

"James, what are you doing?" Elle demanded, running out to him. "There's no way Mary can be here! James!"

"Come—up—James—waiting—you—waiting—waiting—the—James—waiting—"

"Where?" James yelled to the ceiling. "Where are you? Mary!"

"Come—James—roof—waiting—waiting for you—"

"The roof?" James ran, the intercom still buzzing with noise.

"James, wait!" called Elle, watching as he disappeared into the darkness. "James!" He gave no response. Slowly the intercom died out, leaving her in the shadowy silence. Cautiously she advanced down the hall, the gun held out awkwardly. "James? Are you there?"

The old hospital yawned in reply, something deep within shaking. She gulped and steeled herself, reaffirming her grip on the pistol. "The roof," she breathed, slowly inching her way. "He's going to the roof." She kept a hand against the wall, guiding herself, but felt it soft and spongy. She retracted her hand and looked on in horror as the walls were more like cushions, thick white billows bound together and stained with splotches of red. "What in the world—"

The swinging of a nearby door startled her, and she whipped around, gun raised, to find something approaching in the blackness. "James?" she asked tentatively.

The monster only howled.

3 3 3

The stairs degenerated into metal the higher James ran up, and the flights only continued on, seemingly endless. But James paid no attention to the discrepancy; he ran, pounding his legs, breathing hard, unable to turn back. He _had_ to go—something in him demanded it. Mary was waiting, despite that he knew better.

Finally he came upon a solitary wooden door, waterlogged and molded. The smell of rain floated to him from the other side, damp and almost mossy. He took hold of the old, rusted knob and turned it—the door gave way onto the roof, which, like the stairs, was barren and steel, pieces of it red and beaten. Rain fell lightly onto the platform, pattering. Ahead he saw her. Mary stood on the other end, overlooking the town.

"You came," she said, turning to him as he approached. She was just how she had appeared to him when he first saw her: smiling, glowing, healthy, her chestnut hair in a bun and her dress and cardigan clean and unwrinkled.

"This can't be real," he said quietly. "You're not really here. You're back in Ashfield, at St. Jerome's."

"It's as real as you want it to be," she said. "_I'm_ as real as you want me to be. I can be whatever you want, James. You just have to imagine it. You just have to want it."

"Want it?" he repeated. "Henry said the same thing, but—I know he was just trying to be comforting. He knew it wouldn't be true."

"This is different," she said. "It can be true here. You can have it all. Here I can live forever—I can be anything and everything—anything and everything you want."

"Anything I want." He closed his eyes and contemplated the words. "So—you're here because of me."

She nodded. "You called me, James. I came."

"I see," he said lowly. "This place doesn't just change randomly—it does it based on the people here. It can be whatever anyone wants."

"That's right," she said, holding a hand to his cheek. "You can stay here with me, James. You'll never have to leave, and neither will I. We can be together forever."

A door shut behind him, and Elle limped onto the roof, bleeding from a gash on her arm. "James," she struggled to say, her knees buckling. "James—come back—"

He turned her way, eyes wide at the sight. "Elle!" he gasped, but Mary's gentle hand brought his head back around.

"Don't worry about her," she said. "If you come with me, none of that will matter."

"She's hurt," he quickly said. "She could—she could die here."

"That doesn't have anything to do with you," she told him.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "We came here together—all of us. Me, Henry, Alex, Elle—what'll happen to them?"

"It doesn't matter." She smiled at him, something about the curved lips eerie and frightening. "All that matters is what _you_ want, James. Don't worry about other people."

He looked back again at Elle, who fought to stay up. "James!" she cried. "Don't listen to her! She's not really Mary!"

"Real, fake," the girl beside him giggled, "what does it matter?"

"Everything," he said, looking at her. "I want to stay here. That's the truth. I want to be with Mary—more than anything. I love her—I really do. I admit it. But—"

"But?"

"But you're not Mary." He smiled calmly. "You're everything _I_ want, that's true. You're the perfect idea—the perfect copy of what I have in my head. But Mary—the _real_ Mary—she's more than that. She's her own person. She has sides to herself that I probably will never know about. She has friends and family—a whole life that I can only be a little part of. And, the same way, she can only be a little part of mine."

He laughed. "I feel so stupid. I can't just stay here and let it all go. I told Henry before that he had people who cared about him, but I never realized I do, too. I have responsibilities. People are counting on me."

Mary's brow scrunched up. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't need you," he said and turned away. He jogged on over to Elle, who smiled at him in relief. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"It's—it's nothing," she said. "Ran into one of those things, but I'm all right."

Meanwhile, the figure standing at the edge of the roof scowled. "You can't just walk away," she said. "You can't just leave, James!"

He and Elle turned to the apparition. "You're the one who called me here! You're the one who wanted to see me so badly! You can't just leave me here alone!"

"You're not real," James said boldly. "I don't need you. If I want you to disappear, you will."

"No!" she screamed. "I won't disappear! And I won't let you get away, James! If you really want to be with Mary, then you can die with her!" Suddenly the girl rose up into the air and transformed, her skin turning ashen and her dress fading to white. A twisted, metal bed entrapped her, and she spun upside-down, floating towards them. Black, writing tentacles emerged from her back.

"What is that?" Elle shouted. James stood in front of her, protective, and faced the oncoming demon.

"You're not real!" he bellowed. "You don't have any power over me!"

"James!" the monster shrieked, a swarm of black moths flying from its mouth. They fell upon the two teenagers, driving them apart.

"Elle!" James yelled, holding his arms over his face. "_Elle_!"

A tentacle lashed out, slapping her down. The gun went flying, and James dove for it, but just as his fingers touched it, something coiled around his leg. He fell flat on his stomach, grunting, the tentacle flopping up and slamming him onto his back. "_You're not real_!" he roared at the demon above him, its flailing appendages coming down upon him. He reached out, screaming, and managed to grab hold of the pistol just as a tentacle wrapped itself around his neck. The monster hoisted him up, its grip growing tighter. James struggled in its grasp, choking and sputtering, and desperately raised the gun, slamming down on the trigger, emptying the clip and blasting a volley of bullets into the demon's chest.

It let out a horrendous screech, its tentacles slackening. They fell together, James landing on his back. He lay there, coughing, barely able to raise his head as the demon twisted in pain, its breathing labored, several black holes in its breast gushing out blood. James got to his feet and turned to see Mary splayed out, covered in cold sweat, her eyes darkening and the light of her skin fading.

"James," she gasped, reaching out to him. "James—help me—help—"

Her arm and head fell back, eyes glazed over, mouth wide open. James regarded the body, his blood cooling. He knelt down and closed the girl's eyes, feeling the grime of her sweat as he pulled his hand away. He rubbed his fingertips together briefly, reflective, and then looked up, remembering the situation.

"Elle!" He hurried over and helped her sit up. "Elle, are you all right?"

She nodded tiredly, raising a hand to her arm. He glanced over and saw the wound for the first time, long and bleeding. "Don't—don't do that again," she said softly, smiling, and he shook his head, fighting back tears.

"I won't," he said, embracing her. "I won't."

3 3 3

A rickety fan spun above them, and Henry watched its bloated shadow over the floor, the heat of some hellish fire burning behind it. He edged along the hall, one hand against the wall, the other tight around a rusted, bloodied axe. His jacket was gone, and his hair was disheveled and messy. The collar of his shirt was haphazardly folded on one end.

"We're clear," he said, glancing around the corner. Beside him, Alex was similarly cautious, flashlight held close to his chest. They reached a door but found it jammed.

"Looks like we have to go back," Alex said with a sigh. He held up an old, broken radio to his ear, hearing the faintest signs of static.

"Trouble?" Henry asked.

"Somewhere," Alex replied. "I think we're safe for now." They returned down the hall, the orange haze tough on their eyes. Around another corridor they found a series of rooms; fortunately one of them led to a stairwell.

"I'm getting really sick of this," Henry said, looking up it. "How do we fucking get out of here?"

"It has to end at some point," said Alex. "Come on. Let's go." He took a step up when the radio burst to life. He turned back and suddenly shoved Henry down. "Watch it!"

A stream of dark, greenish acid splattered the wall, just missing Henry as he fell. He knocked his head against the wall and groaned. "Son of a bitch!"

Standing before him was a humanoid demon, wobbling on a pair of bowlegs, its arms sunk into the flesh of its chest. With each horrible breath, its chest heaved up, revealing a set of grotesque sacs underneath, pulsating with crimson life. It reared back, prepared for another attack, but with a cry Henry pushed himself up and swung the axe into its side. The creature recoiled, momentarily stunned, and Henry brought the axe out with a hard jerk.

"Henry, let's go!" Alex yelled, and the brunet, about to attempt another swing, reconsidered and ran with his friend up the stairs. As they got to the landing above, another spurt of acid sailed past, burning into the metal of the wall.

"An elevator!" Alex shouted, stopping before it and slamming a fist down on the button. "Come on, come on!" he muttered, punching the button repeatedly, waiting for the doors to part. Henry looked back and saw the demon coming towards them, its flapping chest readying for another go.

"Alex—"

"There's nothing I can do! We just have to wait!"

"_Alex_—"

The creature was finally upon them. Henry frantically swung but missed, and as he did so, the elevator doors opened. Henry quickly came back around and struck the demon in the back, forcing it forward. Alex ducked out of the way, fumbling around in the chest pocket of his jacket and drawing a knife. He threw himself at the monster and stabbed it in the head, lodging the knife between its eyes.

"Henry!" he yelled, and the other boy raised the axe and brought it down, breaking through the demon's chest and piercing the sacs beneath. It let out a high croak and crumpled to the floor, dead.

"Take it, you bitch," Henry said, tripping over it into the elevator. Alex joined him, and they ascended, the sound of the siren breaking in overhead. "Enough," Henry muttered, hearing it, and, as if in answer, the corridor that greeted them was not red or rusted. The hotel had returned to normal, dark and silent.

"There's another door," Alex said, gesturing ahead, and they walked through it, finding an office of sorts. Dusty, leather chairs sat around a desk, and beyond the desk was a bookcase, crammed full of various books and volumes. The boys rounded the desk, finding one of the drawers ajar.

"What's this?" Alex tugged at it a couple of times before it gave way, and inside, lying against the side, was a vial of thick red liquid. Henry snorted at it.

"Looks like blood," he said, picking it up and rolling it along his palm. He stopped, narrowing his eyes, and raised it to the paltry light. "Actually—it kind of looks like that monster juice Wolf had—"

"You'll want to give that to me."

Both boys turned to find a man standing across from them, a briefcase at his side and a revolver trained on them. He was older, his hair streaked with gray and his face wrinkling. A graying sports coat hung over his shoulders, over a blue dress shirt and slacks. He thumbed the revolver, the click deafening.

"Come now. Don't be foolish. Give it here."

"Give it to him, Henry," Alex whispered, but Henry clicked his tongue.

"And who are you?" Henry asked, his brow furrowed. "Let me guess—one of the Order's hotshots, right?"

The man's brow went up at the mention of the cult. He smiled. "I suppose it's to be expected," he said. "The only people who would be here would have to be involved with us. Why else would you come to this godforsaken place? But I'm surprised. You're just a couple of kids."

"You didn't answer my question," Henry said. "Who are you?"

"Just give him the stuff, Henry," Alex said, eyeing the gun in the man's hand. The man chuckled.

"Fine," he said. "My name is Michael Kaufmann, and, like you correctly surmised, I am a senior member of the Order—although the position is meaningless to me. The Order is dead, as far as I'm concerned. No one's left to fill its ranks, and I have no interest in Dahlia's insane plans."

"Dahlia?" Henry asked. "That's your leader, isn't it?"

"If you want to put it so plainly," Kaufmann said. "But she's a lunatic. She has in her head the idea that she can save humanity somehow, through the power of these demons—but I'm sure you've seen them. Nothing's going to be saved with these monsters, only destroyed."

"If you don't agree, then why are you involved?" Alex demanded. Kaufmann laughed.

"The demons present endless possibilities to me, boy," he said. "With their power, well—it wouldn't be out of the question to subjugate the rest of the world, would it? A life of infinite pleasure and luxury—certainly you can see the appeal."

"What a load of bull," Henry grunted. "That's all you want? Power?"

"Power is the only thing that matters in this world," Kaufmann said. "The haves and the have-nots. There will always be a distinction between the weak and strong, and the strong will always dominate the weak. All animals compete—all animals strive to be superior. You see, in the end, human, beast, demon—none of them are quite so different.

"Now, let _me_ guess—you two must be here with the new Princess Heart."

Alex and Henry exchanged glances, and Kaufmann chuckled.

"Don't look so surprised," he said. "I have eyes and ears all over this town. But, since I have you here, let me ease your minds once and for all—you won't be able to accomplish anything. However powerful this girl may be, she won't be able to stand against what's about to happen."

He edged the gun closer. "Whoever wins, mankind's reign is going to come to an end. It's hopeless. Now. Give me the vial."

Henry hesitated, but sight of the man's finger on the trigger broke him. He slid the vial across the desk, and Kaufmann stopped with the briefcase. "Good boy," he said, unlocking the briefcase and stashing the vial inside, all the while keeping the gun on the others. "There's no point in killing either of you. You'll probably be dead soon, anyway."

He turned and headed out, pausing at the door. "Feel free to keep fooling around this dead town. Idle hands are the devil's hands, after all."

He left, and Henry cursed bitterly.

"Smug bastard," he said. "We've got to bring him down—him and the rest of these psychos."

"We will," Alex said, facing his friend. "But we can't do anything on our own. We have to find the others."

"Yeah." Henry grinned darkly. "Let's do it."

3 3 3

Eileen emerged from the fog, approaching the school. It was snowing now, the flakes falling gently around her. "So," she said, whistling. "Midwich High School. Home of the cuckoos." She laughed, snorting. "No wonder everyone's so crazy in this place. They're all _cuckoo_! Get it?"

She looked from one fairy to the other, smiling stupidly, but they could only exchange glances.

"What's a cuckoo?" Arthur asked at last, and Eileen hung her head.

"Oh, just forget it," she said, turning back to the school. "Anyway, it's time for Magnum Heart to rock the scene, baby. Let's dance."

She entered, the fairies trailing behind.

"I don't think they're the only crazy ones around here," Arthur remarked, and Selina sighed.

"At least she's having fun."

They followed.

**END EPISODE 17**

**Eileen makes her way through Midwich High School, hoping to reunite with the others, but an old foe stands in her way, ready for a final battle! The sparks fly as Magnum Heart meets her match!**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 18: A Woman's Pride! Lisa Returns!"**

**It's getting hot!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	18. A Woman's Pride!

The lights are low in the room, and a dim haze of smoke hangs over the scene. Men lounge around the club, smoking their pipes and drinking their liquor and wine. James Sunderland, the bartender, wipes glasses with a rag, lost in his thoughts. Alex Sunderland, in a white tuxedo and bowler hat, stands beside his woman, Elle, who is smartly dressed in a shimmering blue gown. They are all waiting.

Suddenly the stage lights up. All heads turn. At the piano sits Henry Townshend, dressed in suave black, a plump cigar between his teeth, a stylish fedora atop his head. He begins to play. A voice swells up. A woman lies across the piano, shrouded in darkness. It is Eileen Galvin, dressed in red, a flower in her hair. Her ruby red lips move in song.

The club listens, mesmerized. At last Eileen rises up and turns to the camera.

"Time for the show to start, sweetheart."

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 18: A Woman's Pride! Lisa Returns!**

"Evil creatures lurked in the shadows, watching the intrepid heroine as she roamed the halls of the old school, eagerly waiting for any opportunity to pounce and rend the flesh from her bones! But the girl was ready—she could sense their presence, feel their eyes on her slim, lush curves. She was ready and willing. She licked her lips, tasting the blood of her enemies, relishing in their defeat. The time was nigh! Soon they would all know her name—"

"Would you _please_ stop self-narrating?" whined Arthur. "It's really grating."

"Your face is grating!" Eileen huffed in response. "I don't see what the problem is, honestly. You should be grateful that you can even bask in my shadow!"

The fairy rolled his eyes. "Believe me, the last thing I want to do is be anywhere near you."

"Enough, you two!" Selina snapped. "We can't be bickering."

Eileen folded her arms and stuck out her tongue. "Who's bickering?"

"Obviously you two," Selina said.

"Well, eh started it!" Eileen exclaimed. "It's all his fault!"

"I wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't been rambling in the first place!" Arthur countered. The girl and fairy faced each other, erupting in another round of fierce "Uh huhs" and "Nuh uhs." Selina sighed in annoyance.

"You do realize that the longer we idle here, the more we leave ourselves vulnerable?" she said. "We need to keep moving!"

Eileen turned to her, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. We're going. Not that there's any reason to worry, anyway, remember? I'm _Magnum Heart_!" She struck a pose and grinned devilishly. "Nothing can touch me, so I say bring it on!"

"Be careful what you wish for," Arthur muttered.

They proceeded through Midwich High School, traversing a maze of dark halls and ruined classrooms. Eileen kept a steady pace, looking up at the walls and admiring the tattered flyers in the gray light from the windows. Outside, snow fell lightly. It was quiet. No sounds came from within the dilapidated school.

"Kind of makes me feel bad about bitching so much," Eileen said, gazing into one class. A heavy layer of dust coated the desks and blackboard; the windows were cracked and broken. "The cafeteria food still sucks my balls, though."

"It's so terrible," Selina said. "This town is completely cut off—completely isolated. It's—sad."

Arthur scoffed. "They got what they deserved. No more, no less."

"Maybe." Eileen paused by a set of lockers and fiddled with one of the locks. "But I know one thing. I'm not letting what happened here happen anywhere else. We're stopping it."

Suddenly the loud whine of a siren reached them, decimating the silence. Eileen turned towards it. "What's that?"

"Nothing good," Arthur said. "It means the town is going to change again. Remember, this place is in flux—there's no way we know what'll happen to it."

"Well, fuck," Eileen said. The siren grew increasingly louder, and around them, the school shifted and changed. The corridor ruptured like the streets before it, splitting in two.

"It must be changing shape!" Selina cried, glimpsing old walls crumble and new ones form in their place.

"It's not transforming all the way," Arthur said, flying about frantically. "We need to keep moving! We might be able to get out before—"

The floor between Eileen and the fairies suddenly rose up, creating a barrier. "Eileen!" Selina exclaimed, but it was too late. A new wall, morphed and jagged separated them.

"Selina! Arthur!" Eileen slammed a fist against the wall to no avail—it was rough and hard, a mass of tile, wood, and plaster. The school continued to change around her until the quake suddenly subsided. The building groaned and wheezed a few final times before all went silent. Eileen stepped back, appraising the wall, and sighed.

"Oh, well," she said.

On the other side, Selina circled Arthur in dismay. "Eileen!" she called. "Eileen, can you hear me?" There was no response. "Eileen! Eileen, say something!"

"Just forget it," Arthur said. "There's no use. She probably can't even get through that."

"We can't just leave her alone!" Selina replied. "We have to find a way to—"

"Would you give it a rest already?" groaned Arthur. "Relax. She's the one with the powers, remember? Magnum Heart? I'm more afraid about what's going to happen to _us_."

Selina floated in the air, regaining her breath. "You're—you're right," she said. "I shouldn't be too worried."

Arthur fidgeted awkwardly. "Well, you know," he said. "I get what you're trying to say, but—at this point, there just isn't much we can do. She's on her own." He looked around at the shadows surrounding them anxiously. "That being said, we should probably get a move on."

3 3 3

The quadrangle opened up before Eileen, white and foggy. She raised her head to the sky, squinting at the dull grayness. Snowflakes nestled themselves into her hair and the creases of her jacket. Looming over her was a statue of a woman in prayer, her stone hands clasped together, bruised and weathered. Her eyes were hollow pools.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

A figure came forward into Eileen's field of vision, and Eileen's brow went up at the sight of the red hair and brown jacket. "I remember you," she said, smirking. "What was your name again? Sandy Vagina?"

Lisa laughed. "It's Lisa," she said, "Lisa Garland. And I remember you, too. The sidekick." She pushed back some of her hair. "But I guess you're not really a sidekick anymore, are you? You're the new Princess Heart."

"That's _Magnum_ Heart to you," Eileen said, thrusting a finger towards her. "Don't you forget it."

"Magnum Heart," Lisa said quietly. "Right, right." She sighed and held out a palm, watching a snowflake fall into its center and disappear. "You know, I'm surprised it's you—surprised and a little disappointed. I was hoping I'd finally get to settle the score with Alessa—hell, I'd be satisfied with Heather. But it looks like I missed my chance. Alessa's dead, and your friend's about to become God Herself."

"What'd you say?" Eileen demanded. "What's going to happen to Heather?"

"Don't you know?" Lisa asked. "She's going to be the vessel for God. Once God's born, she'll take over Heather's body. That's what being Princess Heart is all about."

"I always figured God was some old dude rocking a badass beard and listening to 80's music," Eileen said with a chuckle. "The God you're talking about—well, it doesn't sound too cool at all."

"You're right," Lisa said. "It's not really too enticing, in my opinion. Once She appears, the world will never be the same. Mankind will perish. Everyone will die. There's no 'Paradise'—it's just a world of demons. But that's why Michael is getting ready to make sure that it works for us. Dahlia's not going to be the one in charge. We're going to use the power of God—we're going to be in control."

Eileen snickered and rubbed her nose. "Man, you must be trippin'," she said, "if you think I'm going to let you get what you want. I don't care who's doing what—you're all going down. Count on it."

"Well, I'm glad you're confident," replied Lisa. "But I can't let you get in the way. Michael's given me the responsibility of killing you, and I'm tired of messing up. So this is it."

"Looks like I'm going to have to keep disappointing you," Eileen said, "because I'm not ready to go just yet. You're going to have to work real hard if you want to stuff me into a body bag." She assumed a fighting stance and flashed her fists. "I was starting to get bored, anyway! So let's dance!"

Lisa laughed, and Eileen frowned at her. "What's so funny?" she asked. "Is it the pose? It's what all the kung-fu experts do in the movies!"

"It's not," Lisa said, calming. "I'm just—not _happy_, I guess—but—I feel peaceful. I feel content all of a sudden. Do you know what I mean?"

"Uh." Eileen shrugged, perplexed. "I think so? Are we going to fight or not?"

"Don't be so impatient." Lisa held up a hand, revealing a black, crimson-studded, heart-shaped ring on her finger. "I've never really thought about what _I_ want—I mean, it was never important. I just did what they told me to do. I was always the errand girl, the gofer. It was always Alessa they prized—but now I understand why, and I mean really understand. She never earned it. She was just—the one. That's what she had over me. But that's not the case anymore."

She glanced down at the ring. "Michael's given me a power just like yours—no, better. I can be even stronger than any of you."

"But you're not special," Eileen said, eyeing the ring. "You're not—uh—a fairy princess?"

"No," Lisa said, "but I don't have to be one now. I have the rest of the Seal of Metatron, and it's under my will. It's been modified. The same power that all those demons fear is mine now." She clenched her fist, the ring glowing. "I can do what I want now! I don't have to be anyone's servant—I don't have to constantly compare myself to anyone else! With this power, I can do anything and everything!"

Eileen shook her head, sighing. "You're wrong," she said. "That power's fake. The more you depend on it, the farther you're going to fall once it betrays you."

"My will is strong enough," Lisa said. "Starting with you, I'm going to make my own destiny. I won't be controlled anymore!"

Violet flashes of light lashed out, encircling her. One clipped a nearby bench; another severed the head of the statue, sending it flying to Eileen's feet. "I'm going to show you my power!" Lisa exclaimed, her hair billowing, her eyes aglow. "I'm going to prove myself at last!"

"Go ahead and try," Eileen said, taking hold of the pendant around her neck. "I'll take your phony dream and shove it! I'll show you that the only power you can really trust is the one inside—the one that comes from your heart! That's the one that'll never let you down!"

A black funnel of light enveloped Lisa and then spread, covering the quadrangle. Eileen held her ground, gusts of heavy wind smothering her. Wherever the darkness touched changed—the school began to morph again, but this time it became warped and distorted. Sheets of hard, dark ice formed, encasing the area, and jagged outcroppings jutted forth from the ground, twisting and spiraling in odd, impossible ways at odd, impossible angles. The sky darkened; the falling snow literally stopped in mid-air, frozen in place.

"Looks like it's time to stretch these old limbs," Eileen murmured. "It's showtime! _Let's rock_!" Stunning pink ribbons coursed over her, enwrapping her in light, and when they disappeared, Magnum Heart remained, shielded by a magenta-tinted sphere. Eileen watched expectantly as the darkness around Lisa dissipated.

Lisa looked up, sighing, her red hair falling straight around her. Black gloves and boots adorned her hands and feet, their edges sharp and pointy. A black cape of lace fluttered behind her, and atop her head were the familiar earmuffs and antennae, now black and jagged. The purple heart emblazoned over her chest glowed darkly.

Her lips, now black, widened in a smirk. "So, what do you think? Impressive, isn't it?"

"Sure," Eileen said, "impressively _bad_. Black is _so_ two years ago."

Lisa chuckled. "Since you're so witty, why not give me a suggestion for a name? Just like you're Magnum Heart, I should be something, too, don't you think?"

Eileen crossed her arms and stroked her chin. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. How about Ol' Saggy Tits? Or the Black Bumbler? Maybe Unshaven Bush is more to your liking."

"Those are all a bit too loud for my tastes," Lisa said. "I think—_Fuchsia_ will do me just fine."

"But you're not even that color!" Eileen protested.

"It's not about the correlation," Lisa said. "It's what comes to mind—what feels right. I'm going to follow my feelings from now on, girl, you can count on it." She stepped forward and breathed in a great rush of air. "This should be a fitting arena. Cold, frozen—an icy grave for you."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," Eileen said, raising her fists. "Wouldn't want you to break a hip."

"I won't be the one breaking anything," Lisa said. "Now, let's go, Magnum Heart!" With a sudden burst of speed, she launched herself at Eileen, ice and snow blasting out behind her.

"Alright, come on!" Eileen ran to meet her, and the two collided, booming kicks connecting with one another. The force of the blow shattered the ice around them, and they leapt back. Eileen touched down, when suddenly Lisa zipped behind her.

"You'll have to be faster than that!" she laughed, striking out. Eileen rolled away and then lunged, countering with a flurry of punches. Lisa dodged them, giggling, her movements a blur. Suddenly Eileen's fist stopped, clutched by a black glove. Lisa clamped down, and Eileen winced, her bones crackling under the strain.

"This power—is _amazing_!" Lisa said, grinning, her eyes red. "I'm invincible!" She drove a devastating punch into Eileen's gut, literally knocking the air out of her, and then threw the girl away to the side. As she plummeted in the air, Eileen flipped back up and landed shakily on the roof of the school. She looked up at Lisa, floating high above, and spat out a wad of blood.

"Fuchsia, eh? Not bad." An insane smile of her played on her face. "Yeah, I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

3 3 3

"Can you feel that?" Alex jerked his head in the direction of the school, shining his flashlight that way. He had discarded his jacket, now only wearing a black t-shirt. A pair of dog tags gleamed around his neck.

"Yeah," Henry said, sitting on the nearby bench. The sky was a murky black, running with purple flashes. "Something big's going down—and it's pretty close."

"Do you think that's the reason the sky went dark like this?"

"Probably." Henry stood up, leaning upon the axe. He wiped his brow. "Maybe it's Eileen. She might be in some sort of fight."

Alex shrugged. "It's not like we have any other leads, as it is," he said. "This town just keeps changing."

"Yeah, no shit," Henry muttered. "Fucking place doesn't let us catch our breath. Jesus."

"Having second thoughts?" Alex asked, grinning, and Henry rolled his eyes.

"'Course not. I'm just saying."

"Right," Alex shrugged. He let out a long breath. "I'm still worried about Elle and James. How do you think they're holding up?"

"Ask them yourself," Henry said and nodded off. Alex turned and saw their friends running up from the other end of the street.

"Alex!" Elle cried, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him. He laughed and held her at arms' length, his smile faltering.

"You're hurt," he said, eyes widening. "What happened? Are you all right?"

She glanced down at the piece of fabric fastened around her arm and shrugged. "Oh, that. It's nothing. Just a scrape. Besides, I'm alive—that's all that matters right now."

He nodded. "Yeah—yeah, I guess you're right."

Meanwhile, Henry approached James. "Jamesy," he said, laying a hand on his shoulder and staring into his eyes. "You okay?"

"Sure," James said. "I'm okay. I'm ready."

"Alright. Good." Henry turned and shouldered the axe. "Well, you guys ready? We got to go get Eileen and those two asshole fairies."

The friends nodded and were off.

3 3 3

"Eileen!" Selina called. "Eileen, can you hear me?"

"Would you stop?" Arthur sighed. "Clearly she's nowhere to be found."

"You never know."

"Sure I do," he said, stopping. Around them, halls of blue and black ice stretched on in multiple, odd directions. Dead lights glimmered in the cold. "We've been flying forever, freezing our butts off—and nothing! Hell, and if all that noise is anything to go by, she's probably in something deep."

"Well, you can just stay here, then," Selina said. "I'm not letting her die!" She flew off, bits of light trailing behind her. Arthur groaned and followed.

"Wait, would you? You're going to get yourself kill—" A huge quake rocked the building, knocking off stalactites of ice. They shattered all around them. "What was that?" he demanded, looking up.

"It's Eileen!" Selina cried. "She must be nearby!"

She disappeared into the darkness, and Arthur fluttered his feathers irritably. "What a pain."

3 3 3

The sky alit with sparks of pink and purple, the two warriors clashing, their blows titanic. "Take this!" Eileen screamed, exploding with punches and kicks. Lisa parried each of them, laughing gleefully.

"It's no use!" she exclaimed, effortlessly tilting her head to avoid a punch. "No matter how hard you fight, I'm simply stronger! You can't win!"

"Shut up!" Eileen threw a devastating fist out, missing Lisa, but the mere force of the blow slit open the woman's cheek. She paused, glancing down at the black blood trickling down to her chin.

Eileen floated back, smirking. "See? You can bleed—you're just as killable as the rest of us." She rubbed her nose. "Not so haughty now, are ya'?"

Lisa chuckled. "Don't get cocky," she said, wiping away the blood, the wound healing. "So you managed to scratch me—congratulations. But it's going to take a lot more than that to kill me." She rose up higher in the air, purple light surrounding her. "Besides, I don't think you realize just how powerful I am now! I have the rest of the Seal of Metatron—that's all the power you have and more! Watch! Witness it!"

She let out a sudden, horrific, primal scream, her teeth sharpening into fangs, her pale skin growing paler, reaching a deathly white. Two bulges pulsated from her back before erupting into a pair of fly-like wings, buzzing and webby.

"So?" Lisa asked, her voice monstrous. "Isn't it impressive? Awe-inspiring?"

"_Yawn_-inspiring, more like," Eileen said, placing her hands on her hips. "So you're a vampire bug. Big whoop." She smiled and clenched her fist. "But you've definitely got my bloodlust on fire. Now I'm _really_ excited."

"I'm glad you're entertained!" Lisa exclaimed, thrusting a hand out, "But let's see how long you can keep laughing!" A powerful gust of wind forced Eileen back, and she watched as a scepter materialized in Lisa's hand. It was black and red, bulging and pulsing, and it ended in a mass of disgusting eyeballs.

"This is getting kind of silly, don't you think?" Eileen asked, but her perpetual grin flickered as the blade of a scythe shot out of one eyeball, spurting blood out. "Eww," she said. "Gross."

"I'll be your reaper," Lisa said, frost emanating from her lips, her tongue slithering out, and then she flew straight at Eileen, poised to strike. Eileen ducked, avoiding the swipe, and then flipped around another slash. Lisa spun around and swung, but her scythe connected with Eileen's pick electric guitar.

"You're not the only one with cheap tricks," Eileen said, strumming the guitar. A pink burst sent Lisa recoiling, and she cackled.

"That's good!" she said. "I'd hate for you to die too quickly. I want to test these powers for as long as I possibly can!"

"Well, then, I won't disappoint you!" Eileen flew down at her, swinging her guitar. Lisa blocked the attack and then suddenly whirled around the girl, bringing her scythe down for another attack. Eileen managed to block the blow, but the sheer force of it blasted her away onto the roof. She flipped around, her boots skidding on the cement, and looked up just in time to see Lisa spin the scythe above her head.

"Where's that fire?" the woman screamed. "Where's that confidence?"

Pink streaks of lightning bombarded Eileen, and she twirled and weaved her way around them, each attack leaving a black scorch mark in its wake. Eileen jumped back, avoiding another volley, and turned her sights on Lisa, her eyes glowing bright. "Sexy beam!" A flurry of pink blasts circled toward Lisa, who laughed and merely spun her scythe around, deflecting the blasts away.

"How generous!" she exclaimed, gathering up the individual bursts with her scythe and raising them above her head, where they congregated into one shining sphere of light. "But I'm sure you have a much bigger need of them!" She swung the scythe down, shooting the sphere straight at Eileen, who could only lock her arms together and brace for the explosion. It utterly obliterated the section of the building, and the smoke cleared to reveal Eileen lying in a mound of shattered ice, her uniform torn and tattered, her body scraped and bruised. Lisa hovered down, smiling.

"There's still time to give up," she said, approaching the beaten girl. "There's no reason to make this any more painful than it already is."

"You've—got a really big mouth, you know that?" Eileen asked, rising up. She smirked and clenched her fists. "Besides, I think I should tell you that 'give up' isn't in my vocabulary! It's—it's not—" She staggered and fell to one knee, breathless and weary. Lisa sighed.

"Poor girl," she said, clicking her tongue. "It must be hard to accept that your power just isn't anywhere close to mine. It's a shame, really—but now you know how it feels. I've been in that same exact position more times than I can count." She raised the scythe, grinning sadistically. "But now everything's different! Now I'll be the one who comes out on top! Say goodbye, Magnum Heart!"

Eileen looked up, prepared to face her fate, when a shrill scream reached her ears. "Eileen!" Selina rushed down at Lisa, jabbing at her face and flying around her head.

"What's this?" Lisa asked in irritation. "A fairy?"

"I won't let you hurt Eileen!" Selina cried. "I won't let you—"

Lisa effortlessly flicked her away, scowling. "Stupid fairy! How dare you interfere!"

"She's not the only one!" Lisa glanced up to find Arthur sailing at her, bellowing a battle cry of his own. She swatted him away.

"Little pests!" she spat. "Do you really think you can make a difference? I have all the power in the world—I'm invincible! You can't even comprehend a fraction of my strength! I'm—"

"_Lisa_!"

She turned and found Eileen running at her, her fist aglow in vibrant pink light. "Take this!" Eileen drove her fist right through Lisa, impaling her, black blood spilling out into the air. Lisa's eyes bulged, her mouth widening in a silent scream. With a grunt Eileen whisked out her hand, her blue glove covered in blood. She regarded Lisa with cold, unfeeling eyes.

The woman staggered back, coughing up blood, staring incredulously at the hole in her stomach. "It can't—it can't be," she gasped, her scythe vanishing and her uniform disintegrating. "I'm—_I'm invincible_!"

"I already told you," Eileen said, her own uniform dematerializing, "you can't depend on fake power. You could never beat me like that."

"You were done for!" Lisa seethed, blood running from her mouth. "I would've won if it hadn't been for those _fairies_—" She collapsed, red hair shrouding her head, her black uniform boiling away and leaving her naked.

Eileen looked down at her and sighed. "You're right," she said, plopping down, "you would've won. Man, that was close." She took a moment to rest before remembering the fairies. "Oh, no! Selina, Arthur! Are you guys okay?"

A groan caught her attention from the side. "_Of course_ we're okay," Arthur said. "It's not as if we risked our lives to try and save you."

"You seem to be just fine," Eileen said, smiling at him, and turned to Selina, who floated up to her. "Selina. Thanks."

The fairy nodded. "I wasn't going to lose you, too," she said.

"Relax," Eileen said. "I'm not going anywhere, and we're going to bring Heather home, too. Don't worry about it." She sighed and fell back. "Damn, I'm beat! If it wasn't so cold, I'd probably fall asleep right here—"

"Hey, it is her!"

"Eileen!"

She sat up and smiled upon seeing Henry, Alex, and the others approaching. "Guys!" she exclaimed happily. "You made it."

"You look sharp," Henry said, eyeing her. "Must've been one hell of a party."

"You don't know the half of it," she replied before yawning. "Really pooped me out."

Alex sighed and turned to the others. "Well, at least we're back together," he said. "That's something to cheer about, right?"

"Sure," James said, "but it doesn't look like this place is getting any better."

"I don't think we have time to spare," Henry said. "Sorry, Eileen—you're going to have to get off your butt and move."

"Just a couple of minutes," she said, closing her eyes. "Hey, Alex, you got more of those bars?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. We sort of, uh, lost the cargo back there."

She giggled. "Well, it was worth a shot."

"Who's that?" asked Elle, motioning to Lisa's idle form. "Was she—"

"She's my apprentice," Michael Kaufmann said, standing over her. The group tensed and turned towards him.

"You," Henry said, and Alex nodded.

"Kaufmann."

The doctor grinned and waved at the party. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," he said, "but it seems our paths are destined to cross. I guess it can't be helped." He looked down at Lisa and shrugged. "I'll have to apologize for Lisa's behavior—the power must have gone to her head."

They all watched as Lisa stirred and groped out, grabbing onto Kaufmann's pant leg. "Mi—Michael," she stammered, raising her head to him. "Please—help me—"

"I'm sorry, Lisa," he said gently. "There isn't anything more I can do."

"No," she mumbled weakly. "No, please—I can still fight! I can still win!"

"You've failed, Lisa," he said. "Even with all the power I gave you—almost the entire Seal of Metatron—you failed."

"No," she sobbed, "no! Give me another chance! Let me try again! I won't lose to her again! I won't be—_I won't be beaten again_!" She raised her hand, the ring sparkling crimson. "I'll—I'll show you, Michael—_I'll kill her_! _I'll kill her_!"

Kaufmann shook his head slowly. "Lisa, Lisa," he said, "my dear, precious Lisa—don't you realize yet? A normal human can't use the power of the fairies—a normal human cannot become Princess Heart. What you've been using is the power of the demons, and now I see that it is too much for one person to bear."

She stared at him, eyes wide and bulging. "What? What are you saying?"

"It was worth the effort," Kaufmann said, smiling. "What better way to test it than to pit it against Princess Heart? Regardless—you've served your purpose, Lisa. I have no more use for you."

She shook and trembled, her skin reddening. "You—you used me?" she choked out, unbelieving, tears welling up in her eyes. The ring cracked, pulsating and throbbing.

"Lisa, I thought you would have realized by now," Kaufmann said. "I don't intend to share this glorious power with anyone. Besides, what good is a clingy, emotional wreck? You're unsuited for the gifts I've bestowed upon you."

"But I've—I—I've done everything—everything you asked!" She clawed at his leg, blood pouring down her face, the white of her eyes turning black. "I've done everything, _everything_! I've been loyal—faithful! I have! I never questioned you! I did everything! Michael! _I did everything_! _Michael, I love you_—_I WAS ALWAYS THERE_—_I DID EVERYTHING_—"

"Let go of me!" he snapped, kicking her away. She fell face-first into the ice, her arms and legs quivering. He fixed his jacket and smiled. "Maybe you'll do something useful yet. Take out your anger on those children."

Eileen and the others watched, horrified. "Lisa," she said, standing. "What did you do to her, you son of a bitch?" she yelled. "_What did you do_?"

"Lisa did this to herself," Kaufmann replied. "She put her faith in the power of demons, and she was too weak to withstand it. I certainly won't make the same mistake."

"MI—_MICHAEL_!" Lisa roared, her body bulging and enlarging. Her red skin ballooned, ripping apart, the muscles underneath growing into huge, cancerous masses. Similar bulbous tumors exploded all over her, increasing to tremendous size, until Lisa was completely replaced by a towering, massive blob of flesh and blood.

"_MICHAEL_!" it howled, pained and disfigured. "_MICHAEL_!"

"Disgusting," he murmured, turning away. "Do one last favor for me, Lisa—kill them."

He sauntered off into the darkness, leaving the teenagers to face the living obelisk before them. "Holy shit," Henry breathed, backing away as the blob advanced slowly, waves of fat and skin rolling atop each other, shifting and morphing about. Black liquid seeped out of its creases, burning through the ice and sending smoke into the air.

"There's nowhere to run!" Elle cried. "It's going to be right on top of us!"

"Eileen!" James yelled. "You have to do something!"

"_MICHAEL, WHERE ARE YOU_?" the thing hollered. "_MICHAEL_!"

Eileen looked on at the humongous creature, stony-faced and stern. She took a step forward. "Stand back, guys," she said, opening the pendant. "I'll take care of this." She donned the uniform of Magnum Heart and began walking towards the giant mass.

"Lisa," she said softly, "I feel your pain. It's tearing me up inside—all the sorrow and resentment. But it doesn't have to be like this. Lisa. Listen to me. I'll end your suffering."

She stopped, the great blob immediately before her. "What are you doing?" Selina demanded. "Eileen, come back!"

"It's all right," Eileen said, holding out a palm. "I'll be fine." The blob enveloped her, pushing her inside.

"Oh, my God!" Elle screamed. "Eileen!"

"It's not stopping!" Alex exclaimed. "We have to run!"

As they watched in horror as it approached, Eileen felt herself be swept away into the currents. A deep calm washed over her; she opened her eyes and found herself surrounded by pure, bright light.

"So, this is your heart, Lisa," she whispered, feeling it course around her. "Yes—I know how you feel now. I really do. We've become one." She closed her eyes and spread out her arms, breathing in deeply. "Let it go, Lisa—let it come into me. I'll make it better." A shining light ran over her uniform, transforming it into a nurse's gown. A large, magical syringe appeared in Eileen's arms.

"It's okay," she said, pink sparkles emanating from the tip of the needle. "I'll help you, Lisa. You don't need to hurt anymore. I'll take it." She pulled back, gritting her teeth as she did so. "Here you go, Lisa! _Rest in peace_!"

**!****解放****!**

She thrust the syringe forward, piercing the infinite light. The space suddenly warped—Lisa screamed in blissful agony all around her. Outside, Henry and the others shielded their eyes as a sphere of light emerged from the folds of flesh. Eileen stepped out of it onto shaky feet, her uniform gone.

"She made it!" James cried triumphantly, but his elation quickly turned to fear; the blob began to sink, and the sheet of ice beneath it cracked and threatened to shatter. Eileen turned back to the blob, watching the red masses darken, black blood gushing out.

"Lisa," she said sadly.

"You've got to move!" Henry shouted. "You idiot, it's going to crush you!"

Eileen returned to reality, suddenly realizing the situation. She turned and tried to run, but her sneakers slipped on the ice, the sheet already collapsing.

"No!" Selina cried fearfully.

Alex suddenly ran for her. "She's not going to make it!" he yelled, throwing out an arm.

"Alex!" Elle screamed. "Wait!"

He reached her and grabbed her wrist. "Hold on!" he exclaimed. "I'll get you out of there!" With a monumental effort he pulled Eileen out and onto solid ground, but he lost his own footing and fell into the cracking ice. Eileen turned and reached out, but it was too late, the ice had already broken, the massive blob plummeting into the blackness, taking Alex with it, drenching him in its dark blood.

"_Alex_!" Elle shrieked, her voice cracking with terror, her heart in a frenzy. "_Alex_!" She ran after him, tripping and stumbling, crying. "_Alex_!"

James tried to grab her, but she broke away. "Elle, _no_! _Elle_!"

She dove into the crater just as the rest of the monstrosity disappeared into the abyss. Eileen, Henry, and James all stood deathly still, the rumbling ceasing around them, degenerating into silence. Selina and Arthur floated above them, unable to speak.

Eileen crumpled to her knees and fell flat on her hands, her eyes locked on the yawning darkness below. "I—I—"

James ran to the edge of the crater. "Alex!" he yelled desperately, "Elle! Are you there? Say something!"

"They're—they're gone," Eileen said lowly. "Who knows how far it goes."

"No!" James sobbed. "They can't—they can't just be gone! We have to find them—we have to do something! Can't you do something? Eileen! Transform! Go and—go and save them! You have to do something!"

"I—I can't," Eileen muttered. "I can't even—I can't even feel my legs—"

"Then what good are you?" demanded James furiously, crying. "We can't just let them—they're—we can't—" His knees buckled and he fell, utterly speechless. Tears ran down his cheeks and dropped to the darkening ice.

Slowly, Henry walked over to them. "Alright," he said after a long, protracted moment. "Let's go."

"What?" James asked, looking up at him. "What are you saying?"

"We have to keep moving," Henry said, his eyes glassy. "So let's go."

"No," James said, shaking his head. "No, we can't. Alex and Elle—they're down there, Henry—"

"Alex and Elle are dead," Henry said gravely, silencing James. "There's—there's no way they could survive a fall that fucking huge. They're dead. There's nothing we can do."

"That's bullshit!" James cried, standing and grabbing Henry by the collar of his shirt. "What's _wrong_ with you? We have to help them!"

"They're gone, James," Henry said, averting his gaze. "You want to die, too? Go ahead and jump in."

"Damn it!" James let him go and stepped back, trembling. "_Damn it_!"

Henry turned to Eileen, who remained motionless on her knees. "Eileen. Come on."

She gave a miniscule nod and slowly stood up. The fairies hovered down to her.

"Eileen, it—it wasn't your fault," Selina said. "It just—just happened."

"They died because of me," Eileen said, looking down at her hands. "James is right. What good am I if I can't save two people?"

"Don't be stupid," Henry reproached. "Alex sacrificed himself so that we could keep going. You want to just stay here and waste what he left us?" He took Eileen by the shoulder and turned her around to face him. "You're the great Magnum Heart, aren't you? You can't just give up. Mason's depending on you—hell, we all are."

She looked at him and nodded. "You're—you're right. Heather's waiting for me."

"Right," Henry said. He glanced at James. "And James, you've got Mary waiting back home, don't you? And Laura and Frank? Remember why we're here."

James nodded, as well, and got to his feet. "Okay," he said. "Fine. We'll go."

"Thanks." Henry looked up at the fairies and cleared his throat. "It's settled. Where do we go now?"

Selina answered after a pause. "We keep—we keep heading for the church," she said. "That's where the princess will be."

"Alright," he said, turning to Eileen. "So—are you ready?"

She returned his stare with intense fire. "Yeah. Let's go."

**END EPISODE 18**

**Still reeling from the loss of Alex and Elle, Eileen, Henry, and James continue on their journey through Silent Hill, braving unprecedented horrors! But as the town sinks deeper into the demon world, the coming of God draws nigh! Can Magnum Heart and her allies stop the ritual before it's too late?**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 19: The Long Road to Nowhere!"**

**The price paid will be steep indeed.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	19. The Long Road to Nowhere!

I remember when things were different. It was a simpler time—we did things without thinking of rules or restrictions. We had fun. We enjoyed ourselves. I didn't have many responsibilities then—at least not as many as I have now.

Back then, I didn't give it much thought. I wasn't prone to reflection like I am now. But those days are over. I realize now that my time is coming to a close. This isn't my place anymore, and I have to accept that.

My days here are over. What I'm doing now—well, it's just dabbling in a place that doesn't need me anymore. The times have changed.

All of my friends are gone, and I'll be joining them soon.

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 19: The Long Road to Nowhere!**

Where the church had once been now stood a colossal tower, built of flesh and stone, rising high into the stormy sky. Atop it, Claudia regarded the giant red tree in the center with wonder.

The bark pulsated and throbbed as if breathing; the branches spiraled out in all directions. Sanguine light emanated from it, radiating, vibrant against the dark sky. And trapped inside the tree, floating in red liquid, was Heather.

"A remarkable sight, isn't it?"

Behind Claudia, Dahlia stood smiling. She gazed up at the tree and sighed. "The time is almost upon us. Soon we will be able to shed this cocoon and welcome God into our midst."

"When She does arrive," Claudia said without turning, "what will happen to Heather?"

"She will die," Dahlia replied plainly. "The girl's body will remain as a fit vessel for our Holy Mother. For now, however, She sleeps soundly within Cheryl's womb. But once she awakens, like a larva she will consume her from within—my dear Cheryl will be sacrificed and reborn."

"This is what my father wanted," Claudia said. "If only—if only he were still alive to see what's about to happen."

Dahlia rested a hand atop the girl's shoulder. "I'm sure Leonard is watching down upon us at this very moment, Claudia. He was among our most faithful, and once Paradise is a reality, he will no doubt rejoin us."

Claudia said nothing. Dahlia turned to the air lazily, her lips still playing in a smile. "Ah—I can feel them getting closer. The girl with the power of Princess Heart approaches."

Claudia glanced out at the darkness of the town. "Eileen," she said. "It must be her."

"Indeed," Dahlia said. "She has with her a fragment of the Seal of Metatron, but that old trinket will be of no use." She flourished a hand, and the rest of the seal appeared in the air, suspended, the fragments floating beside one another. "Once she returns the last piece, the threat of the fairies will be nothing but a mere memory. Besides, what power the girl possesses pales in comparison to the one before us now. The Holy Mother will dispatch of her easily."

Claudia cast her gaze to the floor. "I don't want Eileen to die," she said quietly, and Dahlia looked to her with interest.

"No?" she asked. "The girl comes here intending to kill us—intending to kill God Herself. Would you really choose to spare her life?"

"I just—I just don't want any more people to die," Claudia said. "God will save everyone, won't She? Why do we have to fight until then?"

"These heretics threaten God's safety, Claudia." Dahlia patted the girl's cheek and stared into her eyes. "They will destroy Her if given the opportunity. You see, unfortunately, the world is ignorant, unready for Her coming. The people out there, relishing in their sin and excess—they can't understand—_refuse_ to understand. They cling in vain to their material world, but soon it will fall. There is only one truth, Claudia, and we are the ones who must bear the burden. We must do what we have to."

"But—Eileen—Eileen isn't a bad person," Claudia said. "She didn't—she wouldn't—"

"She would have killed your father just as readily as Cheryl," Dahlia told her. "Your friends are only such as long as it's convenient, Claudia. They are interested only in destroying what they don't understand."

Dahlia strode to the edge of the rooftop, her gown flailing in the powerful winds gusting by. "For now, let her and the others come. Let them amuse themselves a little while longer. They will soon see the error of their ways."

Claudia kept her eyes away from the light.

3 3 3

"So, let me guess—_that's_ the church?"

Henry pointed across the expanse of the town at the tower looming in the distance. The skies around it were red with the color of blood, and the bright, fiery light beckoned them. The red tint spread throughout the sky, twisting and coiling through the black clouds.

"It wasn't like this before," Selina said. "It must be happening faster than we thought!"

"What's happening faster?" queried James. "What's that light?"

"The demons," Arthur answered. "The rift is getting bigger, and this whole town is just falling in little by little. That light—that's what causing this all to happen."

Henry stepped forward, his usual grin dead. "Then we've got to put it out. You hear that, Eileen?"

Standing a little ways ahead of them, her jacket discarded, her white blouse unbuttoned and flapping in the weak wind, Eileen nodded. "Yeah," she whispered, spreading out her arms. "I can feel it. Heather's there—no doubt about it."

"I don't think they'll let us just walk up," James said. "What's the plan?"

"Walk up," Henry replied with a shrug. "Not much else we can do, is there?"

"But who knows what's in there," James argued. "We'll never make it."

Eileen turned to them, smirking. "We'll make it," she said. "I'm not letting you guys down. Bank on that, okay, James?"

He turned to her, surprised by her confidence, and nodded. "Yeah—yeah, alright."

She smiled and walked up to him, taking his hand in her own. "I know how you feel," she said, her eyes burning. "I let Alex and Elle die. I know that. You have every right to think we're screwed—but all I'm asking is for a little faith. Okay? I can still do this—I _will_ still do this. Believe me." Her grip on his hand tightened. "Believe me."

James sent an awkward glance Henry's way, but the other boy simply shrugged. James sighed. "Yeah, I believe you," he said. "I don't—I mean—it's not that I don't."

"I know." She touched his arm and smiled. "Just stay strong, okay? We're almost out of this." She turned to Henry and planted her hands on her hips. "You, too, Henry, you hear me? No frowning!"

"No frowning," he repeated, trying a smile, and she beamed.

"Great! Remember, guys, we've got to keep our smiles on!" She looked up at the fairies. "And that goes for you guys, too! Don't think you can get away!"

She drew in a breath and faced front. "Now, let's go! One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four—"

Henry, James, Selina, and Arthur watched her march off uncertainly. "Maybe she's finally snapped," Arthur said.

"No," said James, shaking his head. "She really is strong. Isn't she, Henry?"

"Fuck it," Henry said. "Who cares? She hasn't given up yet—that's all that matters. And that means we can't give up, either."

Selina bobbed up and down in agreement. "That's right! We can still save everyone!"

Eileen turned back and waved frantically. "Come _on_, you guys!" she called. "Stop dawdling!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants up!" Henry exclaimed back. He sighed and raised a hand to the others. "Don't ask me. Let's just go."

3 3 3

Elle awoke to darkness.

She lay on her stomach, her cheek in something wet. The air was heavy, oppressive—water trickled somewhere, dripping elsewhere. Metal grinded against metal far-off; something gurgled and croaked.

Slowly she rose to her feet, pressing a hand against her aching head. "Where—what—" the haze quickly faded—she remembered Lisa's monstrous form fall into the abyss, taking Alex with it. She remembered rushing after him, sliding on the ice, crying, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Alex!" she called, her voice echoing. "Alex, are you here? Can you hear me?"

There was no response. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms and feeling the slick wet of her jacket sleeves. She looked up. "Henry, James? Eileen?" She waited, listening, shivering in the cold. Nothing. No one. The blackness yawned around her.

Then she heard it—an unearthly howl of pain, reverberating from somewhere deeper within. She turned to it, the hairs on her neck and arms upright. Her breaths came out in unseen, white wisps.

"Alex?" she mumbled, treading forward, her shoes splashing in liquid. She reached out a hand and felt metal, chipped and old, but solid. She guided herself along the wall, wary of any creatures lurking in the shadows. Another howl, full of anguish, reached her. She froze up, her eyes finally adjusting. She could barely discern the contour of the hall before her, its shape twisting to the right.

"Just got to stay calm," she told herself, walking. Somewhere much farther a hazy, orange light flickered. Chains rattled. That moan of agony reached her again, this time sounding closer. Her heart beating in her chest, she ran towards it, something pushing her on. The orange light permeating the corridors cast a glow on the twisted, contorted metal and flesh of the walls. She stopped in her tracks.

Kneeling down beneath the hazy light, shrouded in shadow, was a figure, writhing and crying out in anguish. It struck the floor, its fists splashing in the pool of liquid surrounding it. The muscular hands shot up and clutched the giant metal contraption entrapping its head. Elle stayed back in trepidation, gazing in horror at the rusted, pyramid-shaped helmet. Then she saw it—glistening on the floor, damp and dirty, were a pair of dog tags. She covered her mouth in horror and stared on at the creature.

"—Alex?"

3 3 3

"You two are early."

The two men, both still garbed in their mining uniforms, turned to find Kaufmann approaching, a briefcase at his side. One of the men removed his helmet, removing the short black hair and scruff from before. "Sir," he said. "We've been waiting for you."

"Yes," Kaufmann said, glancing up. Before them loomed the massive tower, its height stretching up into the blood-red sky. Around them, the amusement park was in shambles; benches and carts lay in heaps, broken and shattered; a destroyed carousel lay off to the side, the horses frozen faces locked in agony, their eyes to the brewing darkness above.

The man cleared his throat nervously. "I told you before, sir," he said, "but I'm not sure about this. If we go up there—we'll die."

"You worry too much," Kaufmann replied, grinning cheerfully. "Besides, we have our trump card right here." He raised the briefcase and patted it. "Inside is something no demon can withstand. As long as we have it, there's nothing to fear."

"But this isn't any demon," the man protested. "Sir, this is God—"

Kaufmann immediately exploded into laughter. "God?" he chuckled, drawing confused looks from the men. "Don't be ridiculous. What Dahlia is bringing into this world is no different from any demon. It's exactly the same." He sighed and shook his head. "The fool thinks she has some sort of divine power on her side—but she has nothing of the sort. She'll be sorely disappointed once it betrays her."

He walked up to the tower and placed a hand on the wet stone. "Now all that's left is to get inside."

"There's no way," the other man said. "It's completely walled in."

"Have you forgotten who's standing here?" Kaufmann laughed. "Just give me a moment. It won't take very long—"

"There you are!"

The three men turned and saw Eileen standing atop a pile of rubble, one knee jutted out, one hand on hip, and a finger pointed squarely at Kaufmann. "We finally found you!" she yelled. "You're going to pay for what you did to Lisa!"

"Would ya' give us a second, Eileen?" Henry grumbled, climbing over the wreckage alongside James. The two fairies flew up behind them.

Kaufmann's men tensed, reaching between the flaps of their uniforms, but the doctor raised a hand. "Wait," he said, watching the girl slide down to their level. "There's no need for fighting. We're civilized, aren't we?"

"But sir!" exclaimed the other man. "It's her! Princess Heart!"

"_Magnum_ Heart," Eileen corrected. "And bullshit about being civilized! We saw what you did to Lisa! You just let her die, like she was something less than a human being!"

"She was," Kaufmann said simply. "Lisa sold herself to the demons in exchange for power. She paid the consequences."

"Yeah, right," Henry scoffed. "You were the one who gave her the power, you asshole."

"I gave her the power because I thought she was worthy," Kaufmann said. "Clearly she wasn't. Is it my fault she allowed her passions to sway her?"

"Enough!" Eileen cried. "I'm tired of listening to your BS! I'm taking you _down_!"

Henry lashed out and grabbed her arm. "Hold on, Eileen!" he seethed. "Fucking calm down, would you? Wait!"

"Enough waiting!" she growled. "Let me _go_!"

"Alright, alright!" Kaufmann called, raising his arms. "You're angry—I understand. Believe me when I say that Lisa was my most faithful of apprentices, but sacrifices have to be made in this most critical of times." He nodded upwards to the sky. "Don't you see? The malady that has struck Silent Hill—that has gnawed it to the very bone—it will soon spread. It won't be long now—the entire world will be covered in this bloody fog in only a matter of hours. Neither of us want that to happen."

"Sure you do," Henry said. "You just want to be on the other end."

"Just hear me out," Kaufmann went on. "I admit that I have my own designs, but they're certainly not in-line with Dahlia's. So how about this? An alliance—we help you, you help us. Together we can defeat Dahlia and save your friend. And once I'm in control, I'll spare you and your families my subjugation. You can live in comfort as my esteemed guests."

"I think we're going to have to decline," said James.

"More than just decline," Henry said. "After Dahlia, you're next."

Kaufmann sighed and clicked his tongue. "Well, it was worth a try. I was willing to let you live, but I suppose you'd prefer death."

"You already killed two of our friends," James spat at him. "We're going to stop this, no matter what!"

"Again all the blame is assigned to me," Kaufmann said, shaking his head. "I haven't done anything. If anyone's dead, it's because you were too weak to save them."

"_Go to hell_!" Eileen screamed, grabbing her pendant. Kaufmann grinned and revealed his revolver.

"You first," he said smugly.

Two shots rang out. Eileen and the others watched as Kaufmann's men dropped to the ground, one atop the other, dead, blood running from their backs. "Why did you do that?" James demanded. "Weren't they with you?"

"I'm not fond of sharing," Kaufmann said, drawing a flask from within his jacket. "You see, I've been working on a new form of the solution, and it requires—oh, shall I say—a little human factor? I used it in conjunction with the Seal of Metatron to grant Lisa her power, but that was only a very diluted sample. I've yet to try the full force of it."

He uncorked the flask and threw the cork aside. "Since you're all so anxious to die, why don't you humor me one last time? A final experiment, to cherish the old times and celebrate what's to come."

He twisted the flask around and dumped out its contents; the black, thick liquid splashed around, soaking the two bodies. As it fell, a small spider scurried into range, becoming caught in the downpour.

"Well, _au revoir_," Kaufmann said, turning as the bodies began to flop and flail. "I've matters to attend to."

"Wait!" Eileen shouted, running after him, but she stopped short. The corpses of the two men darkened, the skin peeling and the clothing burning. They literally melded together, everything the liquid touched amassing. Eileen stepped back, her brow furrowed. "What the fuck?"

"Eileen, get back!" Selina cried. "It's—it feels—_wrong_! It's not like any demon we've seen so far!"

"When is it?" Henry asked in annoyance, grimacing and rolling his eyes.

Before them, the monstrous form of the demon began to take shape. Four long, bent legs of rusted metal sprouted from the humanoid core, its belly swollen and bulging as if pregnant. The small head extended out on a metal shaft and let out a piercing screech.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Kaufmann from a place above. He looked down at them and sneered. "I call it Amnion. A demon synthesized from the flesh itself. A fitting end to you, Princess Heart."

"It's _Magnum_ Heart!" Eileen exclaimed. "And don't you forget it, 'cause I'm the one putting this baby into an early grave!"

"By all means," Kaufmann said, "try. But don't be disappointed when you realize how outmatched you really are." He turned and walked off towards the tower. With a wave of his hand, the stone and rust parted, allowing entrance into the darkness within.

"He's getting away!" Henry cried, but as he made chase, one of Amnion's metal legs stabbed the ground, blocking him off. Henry backed away, gritting his teeth at the monstrosity. "Why don't you fuck off already? We don't have time for you!"

The demon responded with a heinous scream. It ejected a stream of black acid at the boy, aimed directly at his head. Henry recoiled, bracing himself, when Eileen yanked him out of the way. The acid struck one of the protruding horses of the carousel, immediately dissolving it.

"Holy shit," Henry breathed, Eileen holding him by the collar of his shirt. "Thanks."

"You better sit this one out, babe," she said, stepping out into the open and facing the monster. "Something tells me this thing wants blood."

Amnion screeched and charged at her, two metallic arms bursting from its front and spreading like claws. Eileen took hold of the pendant and grinned ravenously. "But that's okay," she laughed, "_because I want some, too_! _Let's rock_!"

She transformed, the pink light enveloping her as she ran, and met the demon.

3 3 3

"Alex? Is that—is that you?"

Slowly Elle approached the hulking figure and tentatively extended out a shaky hand. In an instant the beast had spun around and grabbed her, its gray, mottled fingers clenched tightly around her neck. Her eyes widened in fear; she bat at the arm to no avail.

"That's—that's you, Alex," she choked, tugging and pulling at the creature's arm. She stared into the space where its eyes would have been, instead only meeting dark steel. "Alex! It's me, Alex—it's Elle!"

Suddenly its grasp on her loosened, but only the slightest bit—it pulled her closer, and the sharp, pointed end of the helmet touched down on her cheek. She froze up, feeling the metal graze her skin and edge down to her neck. For the first time she heard heavy breathing amongst the silence. It jerked her, throwing her hair across her face and exposing the flesh of her lower neck. It inched closer, smelling—she dared not breathe.

The demon threw her down, and she landed in the puddle of liquid, bashing her head against the rusted metal of the floor. "Alex—Alex, stop!" she whimpered, holding herself up and flinging the dog tags at him by their chain. "Alex, listen to me! Listen to my voice! It's me! It's Elle! Look! These are yours! These dog tags are yours—they're your father's!"

Angrily it lashed out and ripped the dog tags from her grip. For a moment it paused and held the chain, passing a thumb over the metal. Elle watched breathlessly. "Please," she said. "Please, Alex—I know you're in there. You have to—"

The creature roared and threw the dog tags into the darkness. It took hold of its helmet, unleashing a horrible bellow. Elle looked up at it, hot tears running down her cheeks, sobbing and pleading. "Alex—Alex, please—"

It staggered away, slamming a fist into the wall. Again and again it pounded the rusted steel, driving punch after punch. With another thunderous howl it planted its helmet into the wall. "Why—why is this happening?" Elle screamed, clutching her own head and watching helplessly as the demon bashed its helmet into the metal frantically, crazily. Then she heard it—the assorted yipping and yapping of creatures roaming through the shadows. Instinctively she scurried away, huddling against a wall and eyeing the darkness warily. Shapes and forms moved in and out of view; she glimpsed red limbs scurry about and crimson maws flap open in horrid cries.

"Oh, God," she moaned, pulling her knees in and crying. "Stop! Please, just _stop_!"

The demons advanced. She screamed, shutting her eyes and feeling their claws come down upon her, shredding her jacket and searing her skin. She shrieked in fear and pain, vainly holding her arms over her head. "_Alex_! _Help me_! _Please_—_Alex_—_ALEX_!"

A hand grabbed hold of a dog by the neck, throttling it and throwing it off. Another fist plunged itself into a stomach. Elle opened her eyes to find the demons in a frenzy, all of them attacking the humanoid, biting and clawing at it. But their attacks did little; with incredible strength it tore the creatures apart. It crushed heads and peeled hides. It shattered bones and broke limbs. Elle watched as the demons fell to pieces, until at last they all lay around the colossus in heaps and began to dissolve into black.

The humanoid stood there, muscles bulging, heaving laborious breaths. Elle shakily got to her feet, keeping a hand on the wall. She swallowed.

"Alex?"

Slowly the demon took a step forward. Elle stood her ground, unafraid, as the demon approached her. It reached out a hand and cupped her cheek. She smiled, her eyes glistening with tears, and broke down.

3 3 3

Amnion lunged. Eileen swiftly ducked, and the claw sliced through a pillar of debris as if it were paper. She back-flipped away, creating distance, and the demon chased after her, its legs pounding the ground and propelling it forward. Eileen found her footing and then launched herself at the monstrosity, poised to strike, but it was already high in the air. It came crashing down, legs outspread, screeching. Eileen threw herself out of the way, barely avoiding the demon as it slammed into the concrete.

"This isn't looking good," James remarked from his place behind some wreckage. "She can't even get close enough to attack!"

"Just relax," Henry said, watching the battle intently. "She won't go down that easy." He grinned and poked his head out. "Hey, Magnum Heart, don't tell me you're already sweating! You want me to head over there and tuck you in?"

Eileen laughed, summoning her guitar. "Don't be silly!" she responded. "I'm just getting warmed up!"

Amnion attacked again, its claws flashing out. Eileen jumped back, deflecting each slash with the butt of her guitar, before strumming and unleashing a burst of pink light. The monster suddenly angled back on its hind legs—the blast sailed away into the sky.

Eileen prepared to try a second time when one of the legs swung and struck her across the face. She flew back, skidding along the ground, and wiped some blood from her lips. "Hits hard," she spat, rising onto one knee. One of the demon's legs came down like a lightning bolt, and, smirking Eileen easily wrapped her arms around it tightly. "Got you now!" she laughed, clenching her arms. With a loud cry she tore off the lower half of the leg and chucked it off. Amnion recoiled, screeching in pain, and fell onto its side.

From behind their hiding place, Henry cheered. "Fuck yeah! Ream it!"

"It looks she turned the tables," James said, peering out at the combatants. "She's won."

"Don't jump the gun just yet," Arthur said. "Its energy has weakened at all. It's like it's not even hurt."

Henry turned to him with a grimace. "What the hell do you mean? She ripped off its goddamn leg!"

"They don't play by your rules, dummy!" Arthur shot back. "It's not enough to just physically hurt it!" Beside him, Selina flew out.

"Eileen, watch out!"

The girl failed to hear the warning, her attention focused on the writhing creature before her. "Looks like you've got a boo-boo," she said, licking her lips and hefting the guitar. "Let me kiss it and make it better!" She twirled around, striking a pose, and quickly stopped midway. Her eyes widened in surprise.

From the jagged end of the severed leg sprouted a swarm of wires. They encircled each other, growing into the air and intertwining, eventually forming a new leg. "Well," Eileen said, her lip curing in a sick smirk. "Isn't that a surprise! And right when I was getting bored, too!"

Amnion flopped upright, letting out another scream, and charged again, completely unharmed. Eileen rushed at it, screaming herself, consumed by her bloodlust.

"Bitch is fucking crazy," Henry muttered under his breath. "She sees it re-grow a leg and gets horny as shit!"

"She can't win like this!" Selina exclaimed. "If it just keeps regenerating, she'll be worn down!"

Eileen attacked, but Amnion was faster—its claws swiped and drew blood, tearing gashes through the girl's uniform, and one of the legs drove down on her shoulder, pinning her down. She cried out as another leg came down upon her other arm.

"She's done for!" Henry muttered. He climbed over the rubble, axe in hand. "It's going to kill her!"

"Henry, no!" James yelled after him as he ran. "It's too dangerous!"

"Who gives a shit?" he shouted back. "I'm tired of doing nothing!"

As Eileen struggled to free herself, she saw Henry running towards the demon, axe raised. "No," she seethed. "I don't need help! Henry—stay _back_!"

"I don't take orders from anyone," he said, "including you, fairy princess or no fairy princess! So shut the fuck up!" He swung the axe, wedging it into the metal of the demon's leg. Amnion screamed and turned towards the boy, fangs bared. "Well, shit," he said.

"Get out of the way, Henry!" Eileen cried. "_Move_!"

But before the monster could retaliate, the ground trembled beneath them. Behind Henry, the cherry stone of the concrete gave way, and from underneath a gray, powerful hand emerged, followed by an arm. A hulking figure rose up, dust and debris crumbling around it, and held against it, shielded, was Elle.

"Elle?" Henry mumbled, narrowing his eyes. "Elle—is that you? You're alive?"

She stepped out from under the demon's arm, her hair down, her arms and legs scratched and bloody. "Yeah," she said simply. Her eyes trailed up to Amnion, and she backed away in fright. "What is that?"

"Just—another—_demon_!" Eileen yelled and pushed it off. She stood and shuffled away, watching the monster compose itself. "Man, I'm just so—tired," she said, crumpling to her knees. Her stomach growled. "And _hungry_."

"Eileen, you have to get up!" Henry cried. "You've got to get up!"

"Sorry, Henry," she said, chuckling and falling onto her bottom. "I just don't got it in me."

Amnion advanced upon her, screeching, filling the air with its terrible noise. It dove for her, claws extended—but two huge hands shot out and grabbed hold of the claws. The humanoid demon stood firm, holding the giant monstrosity back.

"Alex!" Elle screamed, rushing over to him, drawing surprised looks from both Henry and James.

"Alex?" James mumbled, watching the scene. "That's—_that's_ Alex?"

"No way," Henry said, gritting his teeth. "That's a demon! That can't be Alex!"

"It is!" Elle cried at them. "It's him—it's Alex! I know it! He—he protected me! He saved me from those monsters!"

The humanoid demon grunted and jerked its arms down, ripping off the claws. Amnion screamed and lurched back, but the wires had already begun emerging from the wounds. "It's regenerating again!" Selina exclaimed.

The humanoid was faster, reaching out for the flesh of the demon's core. It plunged its fists into the monster's bulging stomach, splattering black blood everywhere. Amnion screamed again, its two front legs suddenly springing up, hooks extending from their ends. They came down and skewered the humanoid, impaling it through the chest and abdomen.

Elle let out a hoarse, broken cry. "_Alex_!"

"It's going to kill him!" James yelled. "We have to do something!"

Eileen looked up. It was as clear as day—she saw him, Alex, struggling with the horrific beast before them. "No," she whispered, rising. "I won't let him die—_not this time_!" She held out a hand, her guitar materializing within. "You know, I pity you demon," she said, her scraped and tattered uniform vanishing, disappearing into light. In its place, the sparkling garb of a shrine maiden adorned her, and all of her wounds faded. "The only thing driving you is your hunger for destruction. You're mindless—you can't think for yourself. You can't even comprehend the pain you cause."

A bow of pure lift manifested in her hands, and she brought it up, an arrow of pink taking shape. She pulled it back, aiming. "You can never experience joy, sorrow, or love—the things that make us human! You can only live in a cycle of death and carnage! So I'm going to set you free! I'm going to end your suffering!"

"No!" Elle cried. "If you shoot, Alex—he'll—"

"It's okay," Eileen said, waves of glimmering magenta light flowing around her. "As long as Alex's heart is pure, this arrow will fly true! Whether his body is human or demon—his heart is his own! _Now_! Holy Awesome Arrow of Love, Truth, and Purity—_fly_!"

**!****上昇しなさい****!**

The arrow flew forth like a torpedo, a spiral of stars and hearts trailing behind it. It speared first Alex and then Amnion before continuing on and embedding itself in the stone of the tower, and then, after a sustained pause, after an eternity, it exploded in a giant pink heart of light. Amnion screeched a final time, literally disintegrating from the force of the explosion. Alex's form vanished into the light, embraced by it, caressed by it. Elle, Henry, James, and the fairies closed their eyes, unable to withstand it. Eileen stood, her costume and bow dematerializing into flakes of light. As it subsided, for a moment the amusement park was lit as if by the morning sun. Shining petals of light rained down.

Where the humanoid demon had been now stood Alex, nude, purified. Slowly he began to fall—Elle ran forward, catching him. He rested against her as they fell to their knees. Tears streamed from Elle's face as she kissed and held him. "Alex," she breathed. "It's okay, baby. I'm here—I'm here."

"She—she did it," Arthur said, surprised, floating alongside Selina. "She actually turned him back."

"That's the power of the Fairy Princess," Selina said. "She can do it. She can save us."

Henry and James ran to their friends. Eileen watched them. "Well," she said, "there's only one thing left to do." She raised a hand to the tower, cocked like a gun, and fired. "Bull's-eye."

**END EPISODE 19**

**At last, the time has come. Eileen has reached the place where Dahlia and Heather await. A showdown is imminent. God is about to be born.**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 20: Paradise Revealed!"**

**I will see them again.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	20. Paradise Revealed!

"Heather."

The sound of the wind. The breeze.

"Cheryl."

A soft, clinging melody. Waves.

"You have to wake up."

Heather opened her eyes. Bright light filled her vision, blinding and white, and gradually she adjusted. "What the—what—" She sat up, feeling something soft under her hands. She looked down and found flowers, flowers of all colors. They stretched on endlessly, meeting the blue sky at the horizon.

"Where am I?" she asked, and a hand floated into view, palm up to her. Heather followed it up and met the gaze of Alessa.

"You're finally awake," she said, smiling. "It's time. We have to go."

"Alessa? You're alive?" Heather took her hand and hoisted herself up. She looked around, confounded. "What is this place? Where are we?"

"We're on the border," Alessa replied, "the border between the human world—and the Otherworld."

"The Otherworld?"

"Yes." Alessa raised her head to the sky and drew in a long breath. "Soon the ritual will be complete. The Otherworld will spill over and consume everything. Without the fairies, the demons will easily overthrow humanity. Once God is born, it'll all be over."

Heather glanced down at her hands and found them shaking. "So, what? We just give up?" She turned and ran a hand through her hair. "Fuck, man. We blew it."

"No," Alessa said, and Heather spun around to her.

"No? What—"

"The difference between you and me, Heather," Alessa went on, "is that you're not dead. Your spirit may be lost here, but your physical body is still in Silent Hill. You're still alive, but as long as you're wandering here, your body will be a perfect vessel for God."

"God? What are you talking about?"

"That's her plan," Alessa said. "Dahlia. You have God inside you, Heather—you always have. If She's born, She'll take over your body. You'll be both the mother and the daughter."

Heather chuckled dryly. "Oh. I guess that makes sense." She clenched a fist. "That's why I'm Princess Heart. The Fairy Princess. That's why—Dad was killed. All of it 'cause I have some demon fetus inside of me." She laughed. "That really just sucks."

"It's not over yet," said Alessa. "If we can get you back—you can finish it. You can stop Dahlia—you can do what I couldn't."

Heather looked off, contemplative, and then closed her eyes. "Well, what do you think I'm going to say?" she asked. She looked into Alessa's eyes, her own hardened and resolved. "Let's cap that bitch."

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 20: Paradise Revealed!**

Joshua Shepherd watched from the window of his room, agape at the red, murky sky. In the room over, he could hear his mother Lillian wailing, hysterical over his missing brother. Adam Shepherd stood at the doorway, regarding the ominous red with a look of steel.

From his office at the police station, Officer Wheeler played with a pen nervously, overcome by a powerful feeling of dread. His partner Cybil Bennet counted the rounds in her pistol, trying desperately to ignore the terror creeping up through her.

Michelle Valdez stood over her washing machine, piling in laundry, torn with thoughts of Harry Mason and the reddening skies overhead. She thought fleetingly of her previous engagement to a lawyer named John, and she wondered where he was.

At St. Jerome's Hospital, Mary sat up in her bed, composed but frightened. Inside, the cancer slowly ate away, but her will to live grew stronger, firmer. Laura stood by the window, along with Elle's younger sister Nora. "What—what is that?" Nora asked in fright. Laura said nothing, but her lip quivered and her hands shook.

In the lobby, Frank Sunderland looked out at the oncoming darkness, the whereabouts of his son unknown to him. He sat down in a chair and waited, lacing his hands together beneath his chin. Margaret Holloway stood in the hall, knowing well the situation at hand. She smirked. Maria lingered outside her sister's room, lost, unable to stomach the gnawing in her gut.

They all anticipated the end.

3 3 3

"Can you feel that?" James asked, looking up at the tower. He raised his hands, his eyes searching for something unknown and invisible. "It feels—heavy. Horrible. It's something up there—and it's coming."

"It's almost time," Selina said, floating nearby. "They're going to flood this world with demons. They're going to completely blot out the light."

Arthur yawned. "Yeah, yeah, but that's why we're here, isn't it? There's no way it's going to happen."

"You've got a point," James said, smiling. "We've come this far. We can do it."

Nearby, Elle helped Alex out of a ruined gift shop. He wore a simple park shirt and jeans. "I'm okay," he said quietly. "I'm starting to feel a little better."

"Just take it easy," she said, guiding him to an upright piece of debris. They sat down slowly, letting Alex steady himself. Elle sighed, running a hand along his arm. "You really don't remember anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. The last thing I remember is running for Eileen when she was about to fall—but it's black after that. Blank."

"It's probably better you don't remember," Henry said, walking up to them. He smirked, leaning on the axe. "We thought you were dead."

Alex chuckled. "Yeah, well, maybe I was. But I'm here now." He nodded at the tower ahead of them. "Besides, I wouldn't let you guys go at that thing on your own. You'd get yourselves killed."

"Right," Henry grunted. "You were always the leader."

"Nah," Alex said softly. "We wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you, Henry. That's the truth." He smiled and looked to Elle beside him. "And, to be honest, I'm just glad we're all safe."

"We might not be for long," Henry said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. He looked away to the sky. "This might be it for us."

A laugh cut him off. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet?" James asked.

"Never," Henry said, turning to him, smirking. "But I'm pretty fucking scared. I'll admit that."

"So am I," James said. "These past few weeks have really been something else. One thing after another. And now this could be it."

"Feeling a little regret?" Henry flashed him a grin, but James shook his head.

"No," he replied, smiling. "Maybe before. But none now."

"It'll be fine," Alex said. "I know that we can't do much, but Eileen's really pulled through. It's going to sound corny, but she's a real miracle worker."

Ahead of them, Eileen sat in silence, cross-legged, appraising the tower. The two fairies circled her head. "So that Dahlia is waiting up there," Arthur said, spitting out the woman's name. "That's good. We can get back at her for Alessa."

"If we can defeat her," Selina said, "we'll be able to save the princess and all of the other fairies."

"Does that mean you two will have to go back?"

They looked down at Eileen, who remained motionless. She smiled. "I mean, 'cause you're not from this world. You belong on the other side."

"That's right," Selina remarked after a pause. "There won't be a reason to stay here. We'll be able to go back to our home."

"You sound a little sad," Arthur said, grimacing. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"

Selina shook her head. "Well—"

"Hey, relax," Eileen said, rising and fixing her hands on her hips. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. No reason to start the waterworks yet." She blew some bangs out of her face, revealing her large, green eyes. "We've still got lots of demon ass to kick. So let's make the most of it!"

"Sounds like you're pretty spirited."

She turned to find Henry walking up, his usual smirk on his face. "This isn't a game, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "I know. Demon invasion, human genocide—yadda yadda yadda." She met him halfway, smiling brightly. "I'm not worried. I'll save Heather, and we'll go home together."

"You two really are lesbians."

"Maybe we were in a past life," she said. "The truth is, we've been best friends since we were kids. And Heather's always been there for me, so now I have to return the favor." She clenched her fists and closed her eyes. "I've got the power to do it. So I'm going to do it. No one's stopping me."

"I know how that feels," Henry said, sighing and looking up at the tower. Thunder boomed, and the red light high up above them pulsated and quivered. "I was hard on Mason—maybe too hard. But it's because she was the one with the power. She could save the lives that I couldn't. I really—couldn't do anything."

He placed his hands on her shoulders suddenly, tenderly. Eileen raised her eyes to him, surprised. "But I'm okay with being powerless, I guess," he went on. "We're here now, and I'm going to help you, Eileen—because I have faith in you."

"Henry—"

"It's up to you." He smiled. "I won't try to make you do anything. You do it—you make the choice. I'll still be here, whatever happens."

Eileen stared into his eyes, her own glistening. She sniffled and raised a hand to his cheek, caressing it, feeling the bristle on his jaw. "When we get back," she said, "you're going to shave." Her other hand grabbed a clump of his hair. "And cut your hair!"

"Uh, sure," he said, and then she kissed him. The fairies exchanged wild glances; James and the others looked on in shock. Even Henry stood awkwardly, bent, his arms out, lips locked against hers. But, slowly, tentatively, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. When they finally separated, Eileen looked up at him, blushing, her eyes wobbling with tears.

Henry blinked at her, utterly dumbfounded. "Uh—"

"Excuse me," she said quietly, jogging away, shaking and shuddering. The heart-shaped pendant around her neck sparkled, and, trembling, she thrust a fist up towards the sky. "_Fuck yeah_!" The thunder roared in reply. "This—_is the best day of my life_! _I AM SO HAPPY_!" She let out a squeal and hopped up, legs springing. "_Suck my balls, universe! I AM YOUR MASTER_!"

She faced the tower, arms spread apart. "_Hear me, demons_!" she yelled. "_I am Eileen Galvin_! _I have come from afar and overcome many obstacles_! _I have fought and won_! _I have been victorious_! _Know my name—fear it_! _Know that it is the name of your destroyer_!" She turned back to the others, triumphant, a hero for all to see. "We go on! We carve our own destinies! _Hoo-ha_!"

3 3 3

"Hey, Alessa?"

Alessa stopped and turned to Heather. The two stood in the center of the street; around them the town was quaint and quiet. There was no fog or snow. The sky was a clear white.

Heather looked away, fidgeting, digging her heel into the asphalt. "Did you know we were sisters—I mean—when did you find out?"

"I've always known," Alessa said. "I didn't know it was you, particularly, but I knew I had a sister out there—another Fairy Princess like myself."

"Well, uh." Heather scratched her head. "What I'm trying to say is that you're a pretty cool sister. You're, uh—you're a badass."

Alessa smiled. "You're not too bad yourself," she said. "I only wish I could have helped you sooner. Maybe we could have avoided this situation."

"It was my fault," Heather said. "I was the one who rushed in like a dumbass. I should've listened."

Alessa laughed. "That's probably true."

"_Hey_!"

They regarded each other, smiling. The town was silent. Finally, Alessa shook her head. "It would have been nice to have known you under different circumstances, Heather, but it just didn't happen. I'm sorry."

Heather smirked and clapped Alessa on the shoulder. "Hey, it's no big deal. It's not your fault." She turned away and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Besides, you saved me a bunch of times, and now, well—you're dead. It's me who should be sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Alessa said. "It's in the past. Now we move forward. We can still get you back to the world where you belong—to your friends."

"My friends," Heather repeated, thinking of Eileen—and Claudia. "Claudia killed my dad. That's what Dahlia said."

"Maybe. But even so, Dahlia would have went after him, anyway."

"Still." Heather let out a long, wavering sigh. "I let her down. I should have been there for Claudia—I should have told her like I told Eileen. But who knows what that bitch's put in her head."

"It won't change anything to dwell over it," Alessa said. "Come on. The church isn't too far off. That's where we can make contact."

"Contact?"

"With the other side," Alessa said. "The human world."

"But, you know, what if it's too late?" asked Heather. "What if I'm, um—already body-snatched?"

"We'll know," Alessa replied. "It hasn't started yet, but soon—soon. So that's why we need to keep moving."

Heather nodded. "Okay."

3 3 3

Behind them, the ravaged wall closed, repairing itself, fleshy tendons and ligaments reattaching and convalescing. Eileen and the others stood at the bottom of the colossal tower, their eyes trailing the massive stairwell that circled up to the top. The high, sprawling walls moaned and screamed; humanoid contours reached out, groping at the air, their mouths gaping.

"Looks inviting," Henry snorted, shouldering his axe. "So, the head bitch is waiting for us up top, huh?"

"Yep." Eileen stepped forward and discarded her blouse, leaving only a white tank top, stained with sweat and grime. She looked up at the festering red light above them and grinned. "Well. I'm going."

"What?" Henry circled around her, scowling. "What'd you say?"

"I'm going," she repeated. She flashed him a little smile. "Don't worry. I'll come back."

"That's not what I'm worried about," he said. "We're supposed to go up there together."

"You will," she said, "but for now, I have to face her alone." Eileen cradled the pendant around her neck, gazing down at it briefly. "Maybe this power didn't pick me at first, but I'm the one who ended up with it. It's my destiny as Magnum Heart—as a fairy princess."

Henry scoffed, shrugged. "Whatever. Do what you want."

Eileen hesitated a moment, watching him, and then turned to the others. "You guys. Thanks a lot."

"Hey," Alex said, "we're just the tag-alongs. And, to be honest with you, I'm not too worried about missing the main attraction."

"The same goes for me," Elle said. "It's on you now, Eileen."

Beside her, James nodded. "We believe in you."

"Yeah." She looked up to the fairies. "Selina, Arthur. I need you to stay with them, too. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Arthur said. Selina slowly nodded.

"Alright," she said. "Please be careful, Eileen."

"'Course," the girl replied. She faced the stairwell, turning her back to all of them. "Okay. It's time for the last stretch! The final penetration!" She darted up the stairs, running, pumping her legs. The monsters reached out, but she was too quick, too limber. As she ran, the red light above them pulsated and throbbed, beckoning, calling.

"This is it!" Eileen cried. "_Let's rock_!" Her pendant swung open, and she leapt into the air, emerging from the glittering pink flash as Magnum Heart. She flew up, stars and hearts trailing behind her, and vanished into the great light.

"There she goes," Alex said. "It's in her hands now."

Henry turned away, head down, and James clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey," he said. "Henry. Don't worry. She'll be fine."

"I know that," Henry said, raising his head to the crimson light. "But I'm not going to stand down here and wait around. This isn't just her fight—it's all of ours. It's the whole fucking human race's fight! And you fairies, too!"

He pointed a finger at the two floating orbs. "You're the ones who have been suffering the most, haven't you? And us, we've literally gone through hell! People have died—friends have been lost! So I'm going. You guys can stay if you want; I don't blame you. But me, I've put too much into this. I've come too fucking far!"

James let out a short breath. "You know, I was waiting for you to say that, Henry."

"Huh?"

"I told you I would help you," James said. "We're in this together. If you're going, I'm going, too."

Henry grinned. "We've come a long way, haven't we, Jamesy? It's been a ride."

"It has," James agreed, smiling. "But it's been fun, too, in a weird sort of way."

"Sure." Henry turned to Alex and Elle. "So, how 'bout it, guys? One last hurrah before graduation."

"Graduation?" Elle blurted. "Our school's still in little bits and pieces."

"Hey, if I've learned anything," Alex said, "it's not to sweat the details." He gave Henry a grand smile. "So let's start the summer with a bang."

Elle sighed. "Well, it's no use arguing it. I'm always in."

"That settles it!" Henry exclaimed, throwing up a finger at the red light. "We're going! We're not going to lose!"

And so they ran, making their way up the stairwell, struggling and fighting. Arthur and Selina watched them, and the latter flew forward.

"They're right," she said. "We can't just stay here. This is our fight, too—for all of the fairies! For Heather and all of the other humans!" She sailed off, and Arthur groaned.

"You people are crazy," he said before following.

3 3 3

Heather and Alessa entered the church. Light poured in from the stained glass windows, saintly and serene. The cathedral stood before them, silent, unmoving. Heather narrowed her eyes.

"So," she said. "What the hell do we do now?"

"You can't feel it?" Alessa asked, tensing. "It's all around us. It's growing."

Heather kept still, listening, focusing, and then she felt it, too—a deep, thundering pulse beneath their feet. "Jesus," she muttered, feeling the entire church shake. "What _is_ that?"

"Look!" Alessa pointed towards the cathedral, and the girls witnessed it suddenly cave in and morph. The wooden floor of the church gave way, crumbling into darkness. A great, horrifying moan reached them from the abyss; leading into the darkness was a snaking dirt path. Alessa walked to its edge and peered into the depths.

"It's waking," she said. "It's been growing down here—down inside of you. We have to destroy it now, before it's too late."

"I—I can't," Heather sputtered, locked in place, trembling. "Didn't you feel that? It was—was just too much." She looked down and clutched at her stomach. "And it's _inside_ of me?"

"I know how it feels," Alessa said, turning to her. "But this is the reality, Heather—as long as it survives, you'll never be able to have your body back. And, worse, it'll destroy everything it can get its hands on. The so-called god Dahlia wants is nothing more than a demon."

"I know that," Heather said, gritting her teeth. "But can we really beat it? We didn't do too hot last time against that tree."

Alessa shook her head. "No, we were careless. But this time is different. We just need to have faith in the power that's been granted to us." She raised her bracelet. "The power doesn't come from this, Heather. This bracelet—your mirror—they're just vehicles. The real power comes from within—it comes from your heart."

"My heart?"

Alessa nodded. "That's right." She placed a hand over her breast. "We _can_ win. We _have_ to win. I believe it."

Heather closed her eyes, steeling herself, and then nodded. "Yeah—yeah, I believe it, too."

"Good." Alessa turned to the yawning tunnel before them. "Then let's not waste any more time."

They descended into the blackness, walking and sliding for what seemed like an eternity, the great shuddering and moaning growing louder and fiercer around them, until at last the path stopped before a wide, rusted chamber. Heather's eyes widened in awe at the sight of it—a massive, pulsing, red egg. Hanging from the far wall above the egg was another creature, hands gripping a pair of wheels, turning them, each rotation piercing the air with the screech of metal.

"What is that?" Heather asked.

"It's called Valtiel," Alessa replied. "The valet of God—its loyal servant. Its sole purpose has been to make sure this day comes—to ensure that this monster would be born!"

Around them, the chamber trembled violently. Valtiel continued turning the wheels, speeding up, its arms moving like lightning. Heather wavered and fell to her knees, screaming. "It's too much! I can't take it!"

"Keep it together, Heather!" Alessa yelled. "It must sense us! It's trying to hasten its arrival!" She ran over to Heather's side and yanked her up. "We have to fight, Heather! This is our only chance!"

"I—I _can't_!" the other girl screamed. Her skin reddened; her eyes went dark. "I can't move! I can't do anything!"

"You can! You have to fight it!"

"No!"

"You have to _fight it_!"

"_I can't_!"

Alessa turned to the egg, desperate, and saw its shell crack. "Could we already have been too late?" she wondered aloud. She closed her eyes, prayed for a miracle.

3 3 3

Eileen walked out onto the roof of the tower. Black clouds swirled around her, lashing and writhing, her hair blowing back. The humongous blood-red tree stood tall, glowing vibrantly, its light shooting out into the darkness. Within it floated Heather's body, trapped, her skin red and coursing with black. Eileen's eyes went hard at the sight.

"So, the last of the fairy princesses has finally arrived."

From behind the tree emerged Dahlia, smiling eerily, her white gown bloody from the light. "I have been waiting," she said, spreading her arms. "Eileen Galvin. At last the circle will close."

"You're Dahlia, right?" Eileen asked. "The head bitch?"

The woman only smiled. "Yes—it was I who gave birth to Cheryl—Heather as you know her." She glanced back at the tree and girl inside of it. "Yes—it was I who has worked tirelessly to see this day come. Tonight God will descend upon the world and fashion Paradise. The sinners will burn, and the righteous will be carried out of their suffering!"

"The sinners," Eileen repeated, clicking her tongue. "You mean the whole human race?"

Dahlia laughed. "Those who see the light will be saved by Her grace. All others will perish, as they rightly should. The world is sick, Eileen—it needs to be cured. _Humanity_ needs to be cured. God can do this. She will be our savior."

"You're crazy," Eileen said simply.

"I would expect as much," Dahlia said. "You can't understand—you won't understand. You've closed yourself off." She stared at the girl, contemplative, thoughtful. "You may be wondering if I am also your mother, Eileen, but I'm not. I have no idea where you came from. I have no clue as to where you gained your power. I never factored you into the design—even when Leonard and Michael seemed so intent on fulfilling the '21 Sacraments.' They were fools. What did they expect? The Seal of Metatron? Useless. It allowed me to divert attention from what I really needed—the blossoming seed within my dear Cheryl's womb. And now the time is here."

Eileen smirked. "You know, I'm glad you're not my mother. That way, I don't have to worry about taking you out."

"There's no use fighting," Dahlia said calmly. "You're too late. Within only a few short minutes the ritual will be complete."

"No!" Eileen exclaimed. "I'm not letting that happen!"

"It doesn't matter." Dahlia raised a hand. "You may have no qualms striking me down, but what of a friend?"

Claudia appeared beside the tree, walking out from behind it. Eileen faced her, shocked. "Claudia? What the fuck?"

"She has become my student," Dahlia said. "Claudia was the one who murdered Harry. It was revenge for the death of her father, Leonard. She was the one whose desire for vengeance has brought us here. If you want to strike anyone down, it would be her."

Eileen looked to the other girl; Claudia averted her gaze. "You killed Mr. Mason?" she murmured, crestfallen. She sighed and clenched her fists. "Well. I guess that settles it. Claudia. I can never forgive you."

Claudia looked up, betraying a hint of sorrow, but Eileen's steely gaze did not soften. "What did you think, Dahlia, that you could take my will to fight? That you could play with my feelings?" She took a step forward. "I don't see a friend in front of me—all I see now is an enemy."

Claudia opened her mouth. "Eileen—"

"I don't want to hear it," the girl said sternly. "I don't care how guilty you feel—I don't give two shits about your revenge. I don't care that your dad was everything to you. Mr. Mason didn't deserve to die like that. Heather didn't deserve to suffer like this."

"He was all I had!" Claudia protested suddenly. "He—"

"I told you to be _quiet_!" Eileen roared. "You were her friend! We would have all died had it not been for Heather!" She turned to Dahlia, seething. "And as for you, you've gone too far, manipulating her like this! Your paradise is just a big fat pile of shit! What gives you the right to decide to do something like this? What makes you so special that you can just shit on everybody's lives? The answer's _nothing_! Nothing can justify what you've done!"

"Foolish girl," Dahlia remarked. "You think you know any better?"

"No," said Eileen. "I'm not pretending I know how the world should be. I'm just doing what I think is right—what my heart's telling me." She grinned. "It's just the way it's got to go—good guys and bad guys. You're the bad guys, and it just so happens I'm one of the good guys. That's the story right there, lady."

Dahlia stifled a laugh. "I see your confidence knows no bounds. That's fine. But like I said before, it doesn't matter what you do at this point. You're too late. The ritual is already nearly complete." She turned and smiled at the glowing tree. "God will emerge from this husk in Cheryl's body—your friend and my daughter will be no more. What will you do, then? Are you willing to kill the one you mean to save?"

"I'll beat your god and get Heather back," Eileen said. "That's a promise."

"Impossible," Dahlia dismissed. "You can't have both, I'm afraid. Once God descends, Cheryl will be gone from this world. Don't you see? Even if you have the will to fight after that, whatever power you have, however great it may be, will pale in comparison to Her might!"

"Just put a cork in it already!" Eileen cried. "I'm taking Heather back!" She ran for the tree, but after only a couple of frenzied steps the bark suddenly glowed white. "What the hell?"

Dahlia turned to it, mesmerized and awestruck. "Yes! It's happening! At last, God is descending!"

The red light became a bright and blinding white; above them, lightning flashed and coiled, striking the tree. The tower shook and quivered. "Watch closely, girl!" Dahlia screamed. "Your skewed, heretic eyes may catch a glimpse of Her glory!"

"Oh, shut up!" Eileen growled, shielding her eyes, the tree radiating, the sheer force of its power pushing her back. "I already told you—I'm taking Heather _back_—"

Another boom knocked out one of her knees, but she held her ground, withstanding the intense pressure bearing down upon her. "_Heather_!" she screamed, the pendant around her neck shining magenta.

Claudia stood, petrified and afraid. She scampered away to the edge of the roof, wide-eyed at the spectacle. Down below on the stairwell, Henry and the others looked up in fear and desperation.

"What the hell is going on up there?" cried Henry, and beside him James swallowed down his nerves.

"It's—it's something big," he said. "Whatever it is, it's nothing like anything we've faced before."

"Even we can feel it," Alex said. Elle whimpered.

"It's so horrible," she muttered, covering her mouth with a hand.

"She couldn't stop it," Selina said lowly. "We failed."

Arthur grunted. "What'd I tell you?"

Slowly, the light dissipated. The rumbling and thundering ceased. Eileen stood up, warily regarding the wilting, darkening tree—and the light that had congregated at its center. Dahlia backed away and then fell to her knees in reverence. "My God!" she shrieked fanatically. "You've arrived! Our Holy Mother!"

The light subdued, fitting the form of a female figure. "No way," Eileen murmured, seeing within the bright radiance Heather, gowned in white. "It can't be. Heather?"

Dahlia cackled. "Idiot girl! Cheryl is no more! Don't you see yet? She is awake! Our salvation is at hand! All of our sorrows will be washed away!"

The radiant figure looked around, finally centering on Eileen. Something gleamed in its eyes. "_Yes_!" Dahlia hissed. "She stands before you! She intends your destruction!"

"No!" Eileen snapped. "Heather? Are you in there?"

The figure advanced, stepping past Dahlia, eyes locked on the girl. Eileen shifted back, clutching her pendant tightly. "Heather! Heather, _no_!"

The figure raised its hand, palm up, when a gunshot rang out. Eileen spun around to find Kaufmann standing at the edge of the roof, the barrel of his revolver smoking. Dahlia shook and looked at her reddening, moistening dress. She glared at Kaufmann, blood running between her teeth. "_Michael_," she fumed. "_Why_—"

"Quit screwing around, Dahlia," he said casually, chuckling. "Did you really think I'd let your ridiculous plan succeed? You really have lost your mind." He raised his other hand, in which was held a small vial filled with red liquid.

Dahlia gasped. "Aglaophotis?"

"Indeed," Kaufmann laughed, turning to the figure. "I have no use for this god. I'll be returning it to where it belongs."

"_Stop_!" Dahlia shrieked, but Kaufmann had already lobbed the vial high into the air. Eileen watched, bewildered, as the glass shattered against the glowing maiden; she staggered back and let out an unearthly scream, flailing about and clutching her face. Immediately the clouds billowed again. Immediately the tower experienced another massive tremor.

"What's going on?" Eileen demanded, turning to Kaufmann, who was already running off.

"I'm afraid I can't stay to enjoy the show," he said. "This tower will soon collapse, along with its god."

He disappeared, and Eileen returned to the wailing girl before her. "Heather!" she yelled, making for her, but a burst of blue electricity kept her at bay. Across from her, Dahlia limped towards the maiden, wounded and dying.

"This—isn't the end," she said, laughing. "Paradise—Paradise _is_—"

A whip of lightning struck, igniting her, and Dahlia tumbled to the edge of the roof, cackling and shrieking. She plummeted into the darkness, enveloped in flames. Eileen stayed back, the winds once again lashing at her, the offshoots of lightning catching her, grazing her arms and legs.

"You're still in there, Heather," she said to herself, taking the pendant in her hand. "I _know_ you are—I _believe_ it!" She opened the pendant, its pink light flashing. "And I'm getting you out! _Let's rock_!"

Eileen raced forward, aura fading, and embraced her friend, the tumultuous forces surrounding them brutal and punishing. Still she held on. "_No_!" she screamed. "We're going home together! You hear me? _We're going home together_! _Heather_—"

3 3 3

Heather looked up, her skin regaining its usual color. "What happened?" she asked, standing. Before them, the egg was dull and black; the crack upon it spread.

"Something's wrong," Alessa said, furrowing her brow. "It's coming, Heather!"

The egg burst, and two leathery wings jutted forth. A hunched, humanoid figure emerged, its head the skull of a goat, equipped with a pair of long, devilish horns, its body emaciated and feeble.

"Is that it?" Heather queried. "Is that their god?"

"I—I don't know," Alessa answered. "It must be what's left. The ritual failed, and now this is the evil that was housed inside of you. The Incubus." Her bracelet jingled. "It's time, Heather, time to finish it!"

"Right!" Heather withdrew her pocket mirror. "Let's do it! _Heart power_!"

"_Transform_!"

Red and pink blankets of light surrounded the girls, and they stepped out as Lady Heart and Princess Heart, respectively. "Yeah," Heather said, the Heart Rod materializing in her hand, "feels great to be back!"

"Don't get too comfortable," Alessa said, holding up a rose. It transformed into her familiar rapier. "We can't allow it to live any longer than possible!"

"Don't worry!" Heather responded. "I'm finishing it with one blow!" She reared back, twirling the Heart Rod in the air. "By the power of the heart and true love's light, I'm sending—"

The Incubus' hand shot up, and a barrage of red lightning shot down. Heather and Alessa hopped back, the attack searing the floor where they previously stood, scorching it ashen.

"Neat trick," Heather said breathlessly. "We won't be able to get in close!"

"We have to try!"

They ran for the monster, but it brandished its hands, raining down even more lightning, filling the room. Heather and Alessa made desperate dashes, but it was in vain—the lightning struck both, the shocks and booms overpowering their screams. They crumpled to the floor, literally smoking.

"Holy _shit_," Heather breathed, struggling to rise. "There's—there's no way we can take another one of those."

"Don't give up, Heather!" Alessa was already on her feet, training her rapier on the demon. "This isn't the physical world! If its power is greater here, then so is ours!"

"That's easy for you to say," Heather muttered, getting on to her knees, when suddenly dark vines erupted around her. "Alessa!"

The other girl turned back, but similar vines had already coiled around her arms and legs. "No," she said, dropping the rapier, more vines encircling her waist. "Is this—really all we can do?"

"This really sucks!" Heather exclaimed, pinned down to the ground, the vines growing around her. The dirt shook, and grotesque, macabre forms rose up—more demons, all of them moaning and writhing, focusing on the girls.

Alessa looked around frantically, dragged down to a knee, another fresh vine ensnaring her neck. "No," she choked out, reaching for Heather. "Heather! Come on!"

"Alessa!" Heather reached out, as well, fighting will all of her might against her bondage. Their fingers extended, the tips just barely able to touch, the mass of demons approaching, the Incubus above preparing a final attack—and then it happened. Everything vanished, leaving in its place a swirling pink void. Soft, gentle hands found their way around those of Heather and Alessa.

"My dear princesses," the woman spoke, green dress shimmering, long golden hair waving, "you will forever be safe in my hands. I will protect you."

"It's you," Heather said softly, her eyes tearing up. "Mom—it's you!"

"Mother?" Alessa looked down and found her hand glowing a bright gold. The maiden smiled.

"There is no reason to be afraid, my daughters. I am here—I always will be."

A great light enveloped the girls, and they took each other's hands.

"_Alessa_!"

"_Heather_!"

The magnificent light exploded, obliterating the oncoming demons and the black vines. When the radiance faded, Heather and Alessa stood before the Incubus, hand in hand, glowing, their uniforms lined with gold, wearing tiaras, bright, translucent wings on their backs. They looked up at the demon.

"That's right," Heather said. "There's no point in being scared, because we are who we are!"

"Fairy princesses!" Alessa exclaimed. "As long as we believe in ourselves—as long as we believe in the light of our hearts—_we can do anything_!"

"So let's do it!"

Heather held out her arm, and a scepter manifested, a great shining heart at its end. Alessa held out her arm, and a staff manifested, a vibrant glowing rose at its tip. "Together," they said in unison, "we are the Sisters Heart! And by the power of the heart and true love's light, _we're sending you back to hell_!"

**!****中心力****!**

They twirled around, a vortex of glitter and shimmers around them, their scepter and staff radiating, and swung. A massive heart of gold and silver shone forth, and the Incubus was helpless; it disappeared into the beautiful, blissful light and was gone. The heart exploded, raining down sparkles. Heather and Alessa separated, their uniforms fading into light, and looked up to find a white void where the heart had detonated. Alessa smiled gently.

"There you are, Heather," she said. "You can leave, go back to where you belong."

Heather peered into the light. She lifted a hand, a sparkle falling into her palm. "I—I kind of feel sad," she said, watching the sparkle vanish. "I feel—I feel—"

"Don't be sad."

She raised her eyes, shocked by the voice, and saw Harry standing in front of her. He smiled and wiped away a tear. "It's okay, Cheryl. We'll always be here. Always."

"Dad?"

"But not just us," he said. "Alessa, me—and all of your friends. But you have to go back. You belong in the world of the living, with everyone else."

"It's true." Alessa placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is a place of death—but you're not dead. You have a bright future, Heather."

Heather turned to the light, and then she heard it. "We're going home together!" Her eyes widened—it was Eileen. "You hear me? _We're going home together_! _Heather_!"

"Eileen!"

"You see?" Harry said. "Eileen's waiting for you. You're not going to disappoint her, are you?"

Heather shook her head. "No," she said, walking up to the light. "No, I'm not. I'm going to go back—with her and everyone else. I'm going home!" She looked back at Harry and Alessa and smiled. "Thank you, Dad—Sis."

"I'll see you, sweetheart," Harry said, and that was the last thing Heather heard before she stepped into the light.

3 3 3

The tower shook and trembled, breaking apart, the stone and flesh separating, decaying. Kaufmann made his way down an exterior set of steps, smirking to himself. "It's fine," he said, stepping onto a platform of metal grating, flames beating underneath. "The girl will take care of the rest, and there'll be all the time in the world to make my next move. Everything is—"

Something tightened around his ankle. He turned back, horrified, to find Lisa clutching him, her face bloody, eyes dark. "Michael," she said, rising up and pulling him back.

"No!" he screamed. "You stupid bitch—you whore! Let me go! _Let me go_!"

"Michael," she repeated, smiling, and then Kaufmann was gone, dragged down into the flames, screaming and shouting all the way.

Meanwhile, atop the tower, Eileen pulled back, watching in disgust as the maiden retched and coughed, a bloody, black embryo falling from her mouth to the floor. The girl fell back, and Eileen caught her. Gradually, the chaos subsided. The black clouds parted, and the sun shone white. Eileen's uniform dissipated, and she saw the color return to Heather's cheeks. She held her breath.

"Heather? You there?"

Heather's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she simply stared at Eileen, unregistering. Then a smile spread out over her face. "Eileen. It really is you."

"Of course it is, bitch," Eileen said, smiling, tears forming. "Of course it's me. Who else is going to clean up your messes?"

Heather scrunched up her face, tears of her own forming. "Eileen. _Eileen_. You came for me."

"Stupid cunt," Eileen said, sobbing. "Don't do that again! Don't go off on your own!"

"I won't," Heather said quietly, and the two embraced, crying and wailing. At the other end of the roof, Henry, James, Alex, and Elle emerged, soon followed by the two fairies. Henry shielded his eyes and appraised the sun.

"Well," he said, sighing, "we did it. World saved."

"We—we did it!" Elle exclaimed, laughing. "Oh, my God! We really did it! Right? It's really over?"

"Looks like it," Alex said, breaking out into a wide smile. "Eileen did it! We're alive!"

"Hard to believe," James said, hunching over, "huh, Henry?"

Henry shrugged. "James, I don't know what the fuck."

"I never doubted it," Arthur said, floating above them. "Not one bit."

"Right," Selina said, turning to Eileen and Heather. "And if she did it, then that means—"

Heather sat up, seeing everyone. "They came, too?" she asked. "Even Townshend?"

"That's right," Eileen said. "We all came. Even Henry. And don't fucking say anything 'cause we're getting married."

"Oh, God. Maybe I should have stayed back in the Otherworld."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch. Who'd be my best man?"

"I'm just joking, super slut. Chill."

"_Princess_!" Selina flew up to Heather, quivering with excitement. "You're safe! You're alive!"

"Selina!" Heather exclaimed happily. "It's great to see you! I was missing your nagging!"

Selina didn't come up with a retort; she merely buried herself in Heather's shoulder, crying. "Hey, it's okay," Heather said. "Crisis averted. You know."

"Yeah. Crisis averted." Henry stood over Heather, scowling at her. "I had some pretty choice words for you about getting us into this mess, Mason, but I guess I can put 'em off for another time."

"Come at me whenever you want, Townshend," Heather said. "I'll be ready."

"Good to hear it." He regarded her, still scowling, and then the scowl morphed into a little smile. He held out a hand. "Good to have you back, Mason."

"Good to be back," she said, returning the smile, taking his hand and pulling herself up. She sighed and looked over at the others. "You guys look like hell."

"Well, it wasn't a field trip," Alex said. Beside him, Elle pointed at the wriggling black embryo.

"Uh—what is that?"

"Oh," Heather said, "that must be what's left of the god thing."

"Looks like a turd," Henry grunted.

"I'll get it." Heather raised a foot over it, ready to stomp. "See you in hell, bit—"

"_No_!"

She toppled over, shoved out of the way by Claudia, who quickly scooped up the small monstrosity. Heather stared at her, unbelieving. "Claudia? What are you doing?"

"I won't—I won't let you kill it!" the girl shrieked, retreating to the edge of the roof. She held the demon away from them protectively. "This is—this is all that's left! I won't let you destroy it!"

"Claudia, that thing's fucking evil!" Heather yelled. "If we let it live, who knows what could—"

"_I don't care_!" Claudia glared at them crazily, fiercely. "I won't let you leave, Heather! It's not fair! I won't let you be happy!"

"Bitch is crazy," Henry remarked. "What is she going to do?"

Eileen took a step forward. "Claudia—"

"No," Heather said, holding out an arm to block her. "It's okay. She's not crazy. She's just—she's just angry." She drew a breath and then began to approach Claudia, who jerked away. Heather held up her hands. "Okay," she said, "okay, Claudia! Calm down! Just listen to me!"

"Why?" the girl lashed back.

"Because I'm sorry!" Heather stared into her eyes, breathing hard. "I'm sorry, Claudia—I'm sorry for everything! Believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you! You lost your dad—I get it. I lost mine, too. I forgive you for that. Really. I do."

She took a tentative step forward; Claudia backed away one. "Claudia, please. I don't know what Dahlia told you, but it's okay. It's okay. Look, I'll even get on my knees." She knelt down, still keeping her hands up in the air. "Okay? I don't want to fight anymore. I just want to go home—with my friends. And you're still my friend, Claudia. You still are!"

She stared at her, eyes wavering. "Just come back with us," Heather pleaded. "Forget about all of this. Please. It's over."

Claudia returned her longing stare, tears streaming down her cheeks—but she shook her head. "No," she breathed. "I can't, Heather. I can't go back. I'm sorry! I can't let it—_I have to finish it_!" She shoved the embryo into her mouth and swallowed it down.

"_Claudia_!" Heather screamed, everyone recoiling behind her. Claudia raised her hands, her flesh sizzling, reddening.

"It—it hurts!" she cried, her eyes darkening. "It hurts! It _hurts_!" She let out a horrific bellow of pain.

"Claudia!" Heather made for her, but Henry pulled her back.

"Wait, Mason!" he shouted. "Hold on! Look at her! She's fucking changing! And here I thought we were done!"

"Claudia," Heather said again, watching in horror as the girl transformed—her small, petite frame mutating, long, bony arms protruding, spine erupting and snaking.

"Christ," Eileen muttered, backing away. "That's nothing like what it looked like before!"

The beast rose up, the sky blackening around it, a giant skeletal colossus, Heather's malformed head atop it. "What the fuck," Henry blurted it. "It's you—it's fucking _you_, Mason!"

"Goddamn it!" Heather yelled. "_Claudia_!" She broke free from Henry's grip and ran forward, watching as the monster rose into the air, skeletal wings waving, sending out great gusts of air. "Claudia! _No_!"

"Heather!"

She turned back and saw Eileen rip off the pendant from around her neck. "This belongs to you!" She hurled the pendant into the air—as it went, it disappeared into a sparkle of light and reemerged as a pocket mirror. Heather caught it, and suddenly the rest of the Seal of Metatron was also before her, a shining white mass gathering around the pocket mirror.

"Heather!" Eileen exclaimed. "Do it! Help her!"

Heather held up the pocket mirror and nodded. "Right. Thanks, Eileen." She looked back to the demon and swung the pocket mirror open. "That's right, Claudia—I'm Princess Heart! I can help you! I can put an end to all of your sorrow!" She twirled around, brandishing the pocket mirror. "_Heart power_!"

A pillar of light erupted shot up around her, and when it faded, Heather stood like an angel, bearing wings of light, her Heart Rod now a long, glowing staff. Henry frowned behind her.

"Great," he said, "Princess Heart R again."

"Wouldn't you say she's Super Princess Heart?" James asked.

"Who gives a shit, James."

Heather floated up, surrounded by light, the god before her letting out a thundering, agonized shriek. "Claudia, I'm ending this right now. And then we're going home—together!"

**END EPISODE 20**

**I'm not spoiling!**

**Next time on **_**The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!**_

"**Episode 21: Farewell, Princess Heart!"**

**It was a lot of fun.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	21. Farewell, Princess Heart!

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**Episode 21: Farewell, Princess Heart!**

"This is balls," Henry said, watching Heather fly off into the dark tumult raging above their heads. "When is this fucking story going to end? Seriously."

"Have a little faith, would ya', Henry?" Eileen said, a sly smile crossing her face. "No reason to get so antsy about it."

"I'm not antsy," he said. "I'm just tired of being dragged around by the balls. Enough with the bullshit. You know?"

She squeezed his cheeks, her own red, her eyes large and clear. "You're so _cute_ when you're flustered!" she squealed. "I could just eat you up!"

"Fuckin' get off!" Henry cried, wrestling her arms away. He turned to James in desperation. "Help me, man! She's going to rape me!"

"There are more important things to worry about, Henry," James replied coolly, looking up. "You may not live long enough to _be_ raped."

"No," said Selina, floating in front of him. "The princess can do it—Heather can do it! She can't lose, not when she has the power of Princess Heart!"

"I guess that's true enough," Alex said behind them. "All we can do is put our faith in her now."

The sky was black, a whirlwind of chaos, and within Heather shined brightly, confronting the great, horrific demon. "Claudia," she said, floating above her, staff in hand, "can you hear me? I know you're in there. I can feel you!"

The god lashed out at her with an arm, and Heather barely had time to erect a barrier around herself. The attack smashed her away, and she went spinning out of control. The beast gave chase, roaring. "_HEATHER_!" it bellowed, reaching out for her.

The girl regained control, catching sight of the monster closing the distance between them. "I don't want to hurt you, Claudia," she said, rearing back, holding the staff like a bat, "but you're not really cooperating!" She swung, the end of the staff glowing white, and slammed it into the demon's head. It flopped about in the air before its wings gave a gigantic flap, and it straightened out, shrieking. The dark clouds surrounding them burned with red light, and suddenly bolts of lightning shot out at Heather from all sides and angles.

"New dog," she grunted, flipping and flying through the assault, "same tricks!" She spun the staff around, deflecting the bolts away, before holding it over her head. The heart-shaped jewel at its end radiated with light. "How about I give it a shot?" She brought the staff down, unleashing a barrage of pink blasts that spiraled out for the god. "_Super sexy beam_!" the girl cried.

The monster roared, a dark shield of its own forming. The blasts collided with the shield, struggling for a moment against its power before fizzling out. "Well, that's lame," Heather said, preparing for another attack, when the demon suddenly flew up to her, its huge wings blowing gusts her way, the visage of Heather's face opening up in a vicious snarl.

"_HEATHER_!" It struck out, claws extended. Heather slashed at one of the arms with her staff, a crescent of light following and lopping off the hand. The god unleashed a horrible, pained scream and retaliated with a sudden swipe.

"Claudia, I'm sor—" The hit batted Heather away like a fly. She stopped and balanced herself, and before her the demon's arm regenerated, flesh and bone growing from the bleeding stump. "This isn't working," she muttered to herself, holding up the staff. "She'll kill me at this rate!"

With another roar, the god charged, its mouth opening, revealing a vast array of fangs. "_Claudia_—" Flames suddenly sprouted from its maw, lighting up the sky. Heather erected another barrier, the flames parting and coiling around her, but in the meantime, the great beast had descended upon her, another wave of fire shooting between its fangs. Heather darted away and then swung back around, her eyes charged with yellow light.

"Take this!" she yelled. "_Mega Heather beam_!"

Two massive beams of energy shot forth and pierced the flames surrounding the god, and a violet explosion quickly followed. "That should've been enough to weaken her," Heather said, but to her dismay, the god emerged from the smoke and darkness unscathed.

Down below, Eileen watched the battle, her teeth ground, fists clenched. "Come on, Heather," she muttered, "why aren't you fighting back?"

"You can see that shit?" Henry asked, and she nodded.

"Yeah. Heather's not fighting it at full power. She must be holding back 'cause of Claudia!"

"Great," Henry said. "So we're fucked."

"No!" Eileen cried. "I can get through to her—I can snap her out of it!" She drew a breath and then closed her eyes, concentrating, focusing on the battle above them. In her mind's eye, she saw Heather embroiled in battle, flying away from the god, retreating from its frenzied, brutal attacks.

_Heather,_ she thought intensely, _Heather, can you hear me?_

Fending off another attack, Heather winced. _Eileen? What the fuck?_

_ Yeah, bitch,_ Eileen replied, _we're telepathing now._

_ This is weird._

_ It's just like talking! We should do this more often!_

_ Listen, Eileen, I'm kind of busy. _Heather broke away from the god and created some distance. _You know, in the middle of saving the world._

Back down on the ground, Eileen grimaced. _You're not going to save it like this,_ she thought. _You've got to stop her. You've got to fight!_

_ I can't do that,_ Heather responded, watching the monster rage and flail in fury. _Claudia—she's still in there, Eileen. I can feel it._

_ Claudia ate that thing on her own, Heather,_ Eileen retorted. _She turned her back on us—she killed your father! We can't put her before the whole freakin' world!_

_ I know how it looks,_ Heather thought back. _But this is my mess, Eileen. I'm responsible! I can't let Claudia go down 'cause of something I did! That's why I got to save her. It's the only way!_

_ Heather—_

_ You have to help me, Eileen. I know you can feel it, too—she's still in there! She's not gone! So, please._ The god lunged at Heather again, and she raised her staff. _Please, Eileen! I'm begging you! Help me get inside!_

Eileen paused, sighing. She rubbed her eyes.

Heather faced the god again, desperate. _Eileen—_

_ Alright, alright!_ _I'll help you. Just tell me what I got to do._

_ Just focus,_ Heather thought. _Get me into Claudia's head—into her heart. I can't do it alone._

_ Okay,_ Eileen thought. _But you've got to weaken her first—calm her down. Otherwise we're screwed._

_ I'm on it. _Heather raised the staff once more, white and pink swirls of light surrounding it. "Alright, Claudia, I hope you're ready! I'm bringing you out of there!" She spun the staff around and then swung, blasting a huge golden heart out, its radiance dispelling the black furor of clouds around them. "Claudia, _I'm bringing you out of hell_!"

The god roared defiantly, enveloped by the heart, and then all was silent. The darkness dissipated, leaving only an endless, sprawling light. Heather floated in it, weightless, shielding her eyes from the brightness.

_Heather?_ Eileen wondered. _Heather, what happened?_

_ I don't know,_ the girl thought back. _Everything just—disappeared._

_ Where's Claudia?_

_ I'm looking for her, but—but—_

The light faded, and Heather found herself floating over the wreckage of Ashfield High School, the night of prom. She saw Claudia alone, her dress torn and tattered, crying before the rubble. She saw Claudia approached by Dahlia—she saw Claudia kill her father.

"What's going on?" she asked aloud. "Are these—Claudia's memories?"

She saw Claudia with her and Eileen at lunch, calmly explaining a math problem. She saw her laughing at one of Eileen's stupid jokes. She saw her friend.

"Claudia." Heather floated down, her uniform vanishing, and reached out—but the image dispersed. Instead she touched down before a giant red door, its metal warped and covered with coursing black vines. "Claudia?" Heather said quietly, hesitantly. "You in there?"

She pushed the doors open, revealing a large room saturated with red and crawling with black, pulsing vines. Heather slowly entered, her sneakers slipping amongst the vines, and stopped; huddled in the center of the room was Claudia, desperately hugging her knees to her chest. Heather ran over to her, stumbling. "Claudia!"

Immediately the vines reacted. They snapped at her, others wrapping around Claudia defensively. "What the hell?" Heather gasped. "Claudia! It's me! It's Heather!" The vines lashed out like whips, driving her back. "What's wrong?" asked Heather. "Why are you trying to push me away?"

She paused, watching the vines grow longer, the red tint of the room grow darker, more intense. Heather stared at the girl's small form, entrapped and practically entombed. "I know—I know you don't hate me," she said slowly. "I know you don't. And I know you don't buy into Dahlia's BS. So why? What's so bad about coming back? What _is_ it, Claudia?"

Heather reached out, and the vines once again responded, more violent than ever. She retreated, gritting her teeth. "What the fuck, Claudia, I'm trying—" She stopped, seeing the glimmering tears staining the girl's cheeks. Claudia was crying. Her shoulders quivered and shook. Her sobs and whimpers filled the room.

"Oh." Heather lowered her gaze, finally understanding. "You're—guilty. Aren't you, Claudia?" She gave no reply, but the vines did stop shifting and moving. Heather took a trepid step forward. "Listen to me, Claudia—I don't care that you killed my dad. Well, I mean, I do care, but—I'm over it. I forgive you. So there's no reason to beat yourself up over it."

She backed away nervously, folding her arms. "Okay, yeah, I guess it's not the same as stealing a CD, and maybe I'm not totally over it—hell, how can I be? He was my dad. I loved him. He was pretty much all I had, just like you. But I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at Dahlia. She was the one who really did all this. Maybe you were stupid and you listened to her, but, you know, I probably would've done the same thing. I was really angry, too—pissed off. I didn't listen to Alessa or Selina. All I wanted was to give that bitch what she deserved.

"The thing is, Claudia, Dahlia's gone now. It's over. And even if you were the one to pull the trigger, I know your heart wasn't in it. I know you're hurting. I know deep down you realize that my dad wasn't like yours. I know you know it was wrong. That's why I'm willing to forgive you—'cause, more than anything, you're my friend. I mean, it wasn't so long ago that you and me and Eileen were dicking around. Nothing really changed."

Heather let out a small laugh and smiled. "I should've told you about this whole Princess Heart thing a long time ago, too, and I'm sorry about that. I was trying to keep you safe, and I guess it kind of blew up in my face." She approached Claudia, the vines around her retracting. "I don't want to fight anymore, okay? I want to go home. I want it to be like it was before, with Eileen and you. Is that too much to ask? Is it wrong for me to want things to be cool?"

She took Claudia by the shoulders. "I'm not forcing you to come back—that's up to you. If you really want to stay here, fine, so be it, but I have to destroy this thing. Just know that I _want_ you to come back. And don't worry about Eileen—she wants the same thing, too. I can tell. She's just on her period right now, or something."

Gradually, light filled the room; the vines withered and disintegrated. Heather grabbed Claudia's hand and wiped away her tears with the other. "Come on," Heather said. "It's okay. No one's going to throw pitchforks at you."

Claudia's limp hand grew firm, and her fingers entwined with Heather's. She looked up. "Heather," she said, her glassy eyes brightening with resolve. "I'm—I'm ready. To go back."

"Just what I wanted to hear." Heather pulled her up to her feet, her uniform reappearing around her, bathing them both in gold radiance. "Time to blow this joint! You ready?"

Claudia timidly nodded, wrapping her arms around Heather's waist in an embrace. Heather raised a hand, and her staff materialized. "Let's go, Claudia! We're going home!" The heart at the staff's end glowed and spun around. "I'm sending this abortion back to where it belongs! By the power of the heart and true love's light, we're sending this motherfucker back to hell—_together_!"

She brought the staff down, exploding a heart at their feet, and then the room was filled with light, vaporizing, vanishing, taking them with it.

3 3 3

Henry, Eileen, and the others watched as the black storm clouds parted, a golden, shimmering figure floating down to them. The clouds broke, rays of light piercing them, the entire sky radiating. Heather stepped down before the group, Claudia in her arms, her uniform and bright wings disappearing.

"Well, I'll be damned," Henry said. "She really did bring the chick back."

"Of course she did," Eileen said. "I helped her!"

Heather looked down at Claudia's unconscious face and sighed. "I guess that's it. She needs to rest."

"Hold on," Alex said, looking around, "I think there's something else coming."

Around them, the tower and the entire town trembled, and then it happened—swarms among swarms of small orbs of light flew up from the town, gathering in the air. "What's that?" James cried, and Selina and Arthur flew up in excitement.

"It's all the other fairies!" Selina exclaimed. "They're free! They're free!"

The masses of fairies congregated, and from the sky, a bright, golden light emerged. The teenagers watched on in awe as the light took the form of a woman, long blonde hair shimmering and verdant dress flowing, a pair of huge, beautiful wings sprouting behind her. Another figure appeared beside her, dressed in a long gown of white, hair black and long. Heather's eyes widened. "Alessa?"

Alessa simply smiled. The regal woman before them drew a breath. "My dear daughter," she said, "you have done well. We fairies have been saved, and the balance to the worlds has been restored."

"I—uh—well—" Heather stammered. Eileen cleared her throat.

"No problem, ma'am!" she proclaimed, saluting. "Just doing our duty!"

The woman giggled. "Yes—you have done very well, too, Eileen. You are not my daughter, and yet you have our blood running through your veins."

Eileen furrowed her brow. "Wait—you're the Fairy Queen? So then how am I a fairy princess if I'm not your daughter?"

"I once had an older, much wiser sister," the Queen replied. "I have not seen her in many, many years, but it is possible that you are her descendant. If so, you are, in truth, the inheritor of my throne."

Eileen nearly fainted.

The Queen laughed. "Worry not, my dear, you have nothing to fear. You have no obligation to us fairies. You may live your life in happiness and peace, and upon your human death, you can choose to come to us as a fairy or join your departed friends and family in the afterlife."

"Is it the same for me?" Heather asked, and the Queen nodded.

"Yes. It is up to you."

Heather turned to Alessa. "How is it, Sis? Free back rubs?"

"Well, it's my destiny," Alessa said. "I have no connection to the human world, Heather, and you no longer need my protection. So I'll stay here with the fairies and fulfill my duty." She smiled. "Don't worry about me. I'm content. I have no regrets."

"Right." Heather turned back to the Queen. "Okay, then. I'll leave the rest to you guys."

"Worry not," the Queen said. "You deserve your rest." She turned her eyes to the others and smiled. "And I must also thank you brave children—and, of course, my dear Selina and Arthur. You all have done well."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Selina said, bowing; Arthur grunted.

"We did what we had to do," he said. "That's all."

"I second that," Henry said, nodding. "I would've done everything the same, no matter what you fairies were doing."

"Yes," the Queen said, "I realize it was not for our sake that you acted, Henry. But I still admire your selflessness and courage. You all sacrificed your own safety so that others could be protected, and there is no greater act of heroism. Thus, if it is in my power, I would like to grant you all one wish, a token of my gratitude."

"A wish?" Henry repeated, looking back at Alex and Elle. "Well, that's pretty easy, don't you guys think?"

"Yeah," Alex said. "It's probably too much to ask for world peace, anyway."

"So we'll take something a little closer to home," Elle said.

Henry patted James on the back. "Remember that promise I made you, Jamesy? You're living a long life with Mary, thanks to Mrs. Fairy here." James looked at him, stunned, and Henry raised his gaze to the Queen. "You heard it, lady. Make Mary Shepherd healthy. Save her life."

The Queen nodded. "So be it. I will honor your request." She flourished a hand, and in her palm formed a small dark ball. "Here is what eats away at the girl's life," she said, crushing it, "and now it is gone. Your friend will live."

A smile broke out over James' face, and he bowed. "Thank you," he said, but the Queen only shook her head.

"You owe me nothing, not even a bow. It is I who owe all of you, and I only wish I could do more."

She turned towards the great, golden light behind her. "It is time we departed. We will return to our world and work on repairing the damage done." She gave the group a soft smile. "But if there is ever a time when you require our help, you need only call."

"Wait!" Heather yelled, and she held up the pocket mirror. "This—this thing—it's better off with you. I mean, I don't have a use for it anymore."

"No," the Queen replied. "Keep it. The Seal of Metatron is a mystical item, a mirror for the one whose power it reflects. In righteous hands, it can be a shield to protect the just—and in the possession of the wicked, it can be a sword to carve and destroy. You may need it in the future, and it will serve you well, just as it has."

Heather looked down at the pocket mirror and tightened her grip around it. "Alright," she said quietly. The Queen smiled and addressed the many fairies surrounding her. "It is now time that we return home. Let us go." She gave a curt bow to the teenagers. "And farewell, my daughter, my friends. It is an honor."

She turned and disappeared into the light, followed by the masses of fairies. Heather watched them go, Claudia still sleeping in her arms. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it.

Alessa turned back and floated down to her. "This time it really is goodbye," she said, smiling.

"Alessa—"

"It's all right. What's important is that you, your friends, and all of humanity are safe. I can go on happily knowing that." She looked beyond Heather's head. "But there are two others who must make a choice."

Selina and Arthur floated up to them, and the latter grinned. "You already know what I'm going to do," he said giddily. "Alessa! You're actually going to be our princess now!"

"Yes," Alessa said. "Thank you, Arthur, for helping Heather."

"It's not like I had much of a choice. We'd be dead otherwise." He cleared his throat. "Anyway. It was decently fun working with you, Heather, but I've been stuck in this human world for way too long. I'll see you around."

He flew off, joining the other fairies, and Heather turned to Selina. "Well," she said, "I guess that means you have to go, too, huh?"

Selina nodded. "Yes," she responded. "But, I—well I don't—"

"Shut the fuck up," Heather said with a smile. "You belong over there, Selina. We both know it. But, hey, it was a lot of fun hanging out with you, and you really helped me out."

"Princess."

"It's okay." Heather reaffirmed her smile despite her tears. "I don't know how I'll get on without your nagging, but I'll manage. You go back and make sure everything works out on your side. Okay, partner?"

"Right," Selina said. "Thank you, Heather—for everything."

"So, I guess this is goodbye." Eileen walked up beside Heather and sighed. "Well, it was nice fighting with you, Selina."

"You, too, Eileen. Thank you, as well." The fairy turned to Alessa. "Alright. I'm ready."

"Then we must go." Alessa touched Heather's arm gently, smiling. "Goodbye, Heather. I'm glad that we could meet, even under these circumstances."

"Yeah," Heather said. "See you around."

Alessa and Selina both rose up and then went off into the great light with the last of the fairies. The portal quickly closed, and the golden hue of the sky faded with it, leaving only white and gray. Heather sighed; Eileen placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, it's over," she said. "You okay? What happened to Claudia?"

"She's just asleep," Heather said, looking down at her friend. "Now we're both orphans. I don't know what we're going to do."

"Crash at my place, of course," Eileen said. "We'll work out the details later."

Behind them, Henry cleared his throat loudly. "Hey, ladies, now that all the mushy stuff is taken care of, can we get the fuck out of here?"

"Would it kill you to be a little patient, Townshend?" Heather demanded, and immediately the two were embroiled in another fierce stare-off.

"That's enough, you two," Eileen sighed, getting between them. "Can we just all chill a little? We all want to get home, you know."

"Yeah, fine," Heather grumbled. "Just as long as I don't have to look at his ugly mug on the way back!"

"Blow me, Mason," Henry said. "I just don't want to listen to your whining. I forgot what it was like when you were being used as god fertilizer."

"Well, it's good to see things are back to normal," Alex said, and he and Elle laughed. James sighed.

3 3 3

"I can't believe it!" Frank hollered, beaming. "The whole gang's here! But where's Henry?"

"He's meeting up with us later," Alex said. "Is James here, Mr. Sunderland?"

"Of course he is! Let me get him." Frank returned inside, and Alex and Elle exchanged glances on the porch.

"It's great to see the sun again, isn't it?" Elle asked, looking up to the blue sky. "Everything feels like a dream."

Alex nodded. "That's for sure, but it's over now. We made it."

"Were your parents angry?"

"A bit," he laughed. "We didn't talk about it, though, and Josh didn't ask me a thing. I think we just—_understood_. What about you?"

"As usual, my mom was cool as ice," Elle said. "But I was glad she was okay, and Nora, too."

The door opened, and they turned to find James standing before them. "Isn't it a little early?" he asked. "The party's not for another hour."

"Yeah," Alex said, "but we figured we'd get there a little earlier. Remember, it's a surprise party."

"That's true," James said. "You guys sure went to a lot of trouble."

"It was Henry's idea, ironically," Elle said. "But hey, we also wanted to let you know about Mary. The doctors are giving her a clean bill of health. They're letting her out in a couple of days."

Alex shrugged. "If you ask me, it was a little much to keep her there as long as they did, but all's well that ends well. The Fairy Queen really did save her."

James smiled quietly. "That's great," he said. "I guess we really were rewarded." He looked up, eyes narrowed. "Hey. Where is Henry, anyway?"

"He said he'd meet up with us later," Alex replied. "He must be taking care of something important."

3 3 3

Henry raised his camera, snapping another photograph. From his porch, he had a perfect view of the butterflies hovering over the trees across the street, the whole mass of them moving and swarming, yellow, red, and blue flying around. He watched them, relaxed, the clear sky and singsong of the birds putting him at ease. He closed his eyes, peaceful, serene.

"Boo!"

He nearly jumped up, startled, and Eileen stumbled onto him, laughing. "Got you!" she exclaimed, hugging his arm, and he grimaced.

"Great," he groaned. "I was just getting ready to doze off. You know the last time I took a decent nap?"

"Nope," she said, grinning. "What're you up to? Taking pictures?"

He glanced down at his camera and shrugged. "Something like that." He sat back down and sighed. "Back to the grind," he said.

"Are you sad about that?" Eileen asked, smoothing out her denim skirt. "Don't tell me you're getting bored."

"Nah," he said, "'course not. I don't care about any of that." He looked back up at the butterflies. "I just want my time—before the rest of the world catches up. College, work, all that bullshit—I don't want to deal with it yet."

"I know what you mean," she said, taking his hand in her lap and playing with his fingers. "I kind of want what's going on now to go on forever. That'd be nice."

Henry watched her silently before looking out at the grass. She smiled and caressed his cheek. "At least you shaved."

"I needed it."

"Now we just need to get you a haircut—and maybe some new clothes—maybe a nice suit!"

"Don't tell me you've planned it all out," Henry said quietly. "Our whole life together."

Eileen giggled. "Oh. No, I only got up to us getting married in about four years." She laughed and patted his arm. "Hey. What's wrong, Henry?"

"Nothing," he said. "I'm just thinking."

"It's going to be okay," Eileen said. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I'm right!"

He chuckled. "Thanks, Eileen. You're really—really something, you know that?"

"I know." She smiled, leaning against him. "But I owe a lot to you and Heather for making me this way. I never knew courage. I never knew what it meant to be a hero."

At this Henry laughed. "We're not heroes, Eileen—just dipshit teens. Now, let's go. It's almost time for the party."

3 3 3

A soft breeze passed them by, rustling the trees. The cemetery was quiet, quaint. Heather knelt before the headstone, tracing the lettering with her fingers. "Hey, Dad," she whispered. "It's my birthday today. The big one-eight. Looks like I'm all grown up now."

She smiled. "Anyway, Claudia's with me today. She wanted to talk to you, too."

Beside her, Claudia sniffled and adjusted her glasses. "Hello, Mr. Mason," she said slowly. "I—I wanted to apologize for everything. I realize that no amount of apologies or crying can make up for what I did, so I'm going to start doing what I can to atone. I'm going to make it up to you—I swear. No matter what happens, I'm going to change things. I'm going to fix the world around me. I promise you."

She reached out and placed a bouquet of flowers in front of the headstone before standing up. "Do you think he heard me?" she asked, and Heather nodded.

"Yeah. Definitely." She faced Claudia and took her hand. "I'll help you, Claudia. We'll do it together."

The other girl nodded solemnly, and Heather turned and started walking away. "Heather," Claudia said, and she looked back. "I think Eileen wanted to get together at Good Ol' Days. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds good," Heather replied. "I'm up for some more normalcy."

They went by subway, and when they walked inside, Heather was surprised by the darkness. "What's going on?" she wondered aloud, entering with Claudia, and then the lights shot on.

"Happy birthday!" cried Eileen, Alex, Elle, James, and many others, streamers flying around, confetti falling. Heather looked on, shocked, as Eileen hugged her.

"What do you think, bitch?" she asked. "Your own personal surprise party. And guess whose idea it was?"

"Whose?"

"Henry's!"

Henry stood off in the back, grumbling.

Heather smirked and shrugged. "I guess the goon's not so bad."

"I'm carrying his baby, slut. Of course he's not."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Well, yeah, I'm joking, but still."

Claudia smiled, looking between them. "I missed you guys," she said, smiling.

The party went on. Henry, James, and Alex regarded the scene from the back, toting their slices of cake on small paper plates. "This is pretty good shit, Alex," Henry said, plopping some in his mouth.

"Thank Elle and the girls," Alex said. "Got the gift of divine baking."

"You can say that again." Henry licked some frosting off his fork. "Where is Elle, anyway?"

"I'm right here." The boys turned and found Elle standing before them, tying her hair back. "Just got here," she said. "So you guys like it?"

"It's scrumptious," Alex said, giving her a little kiss. "So, did everything go okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "She was pretty excited."

"Bring a friend?" Henry asked, and she nodded.

"Yeah." She stepped aside, and there was Mary, walking up to them. James went slack.

"Hey," she greeted, waving, looking at James. "Hey, James."

"Mary," he said. "Is it all right for you to be here? Out of the hospital?"

"Sure," she replied. "I'm perfectly fine. And—Alex and Elle told me everything. I know all about what you guys have been up to."

Henry turned to his friends, brow furrowed, and they shrugged. Mary touched James' arm and sighed. "Just—if you go off and save the world again, let me know, okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry."

They smiled. Henry grimaced and continued munching on his cake. _Well,_ he thought, _at least the cake's good. Just sorry you couldn't get some, Velasquez. But I won't let you or the others go on in vain. _His eyes hardened. _We're going to be okay. I've got Eileen and James and they've got Mary and Mason. And if something happens, well—I'll just beat the shit out of them._

_ Or leave it to Princess Heart._

**END EPISODE 21**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Silent Hill**_** and all related material are the property of their respective copyright holders**


	22. Epilogue

"Come in."

Curtis sauntered into the dark office, tipping his cap. "So," he said, "you got what you wanted?"

"That's right," Margaret Holloway said, holding up the triangular prism, its surface orange and dull. "The Flauros. A cage for demons." She turned it in her hands, smiling. "Once I've deciphered its secrets, no one will be left to stop me. Dahlia, Michael, Leonard—they all made crucial mistakes that I won't repeat."

"What about the girl?" Curtis grinned, revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. "She didn't seem like much when I met her."

"Princess Heart?" Margaret shrugged. "Like I said, no one can stop me now. And even if she should interfere, I have my plans." She looked down at the Flauros; a soft, crimson glow pulsated within it.

"Fear of the blood tends to create fear of the flesh, Curtis," she said lowly. "And the future will be one drowned in blood."

3 3 3

The girl trekked up the road, shivering, hugging herself, wet and frigid from the downpour. The wind howled; the darkness of the forest seemed alive and calculating. The night was deep and rich, flashing with lightning and booming with thunder. She swallowed hard, afraid.

An engine, lights. She looked up and saw a truck approaching, its headlights blinding. "Hey!" she yelled, flailing her arms. "Stop!"

It came to a stop, and the driver poked his head out of the window, muted music from the radio following him out. He raised his cap and scratched at the gristle on his jaw. "Get in," he said quickly, and she ran for the other side and jumped into the passenger seat. She shut the door and ran a hand through her stringy, drenched black hair.

They started moving. The driver glanced at her, sticking a toothpick between his teeth. "So, what's a girl like you doing out here alone?"

"It's a long story," she replied curtly. "Forget it. I just need to get to a payphone."

He shrugged, said nothing else. The girl looked around, kneading her hands together. In the backseat were a thick, brown blanket. Underneath it stuck out a sharp blade.

"My name's Travis," the driver said gruffly, breaking the girl out of her daze, "Travis Grady. You?"

"Uh—Melissa." She turned back to the front, focusing on the road ahead through the windshield wipers. "So, um, what's with that stuff in the back?"

"Just some equipment," Grady said, not looking at her.

Melissa studied him, suddenly wary. Her hand fumbled for the door handle. "You know what," she said, "I think I'll just keep walking. Don't worry about it."

Grady glanced at her, smiling, and brushed some strands of hair out of her face, his fingertips caked with red. "Don't be ridiculous," he said quietly. "You won't last out there. Better to just ride with me to the next town over. You ever been to Brahms?"

Melissa shivered, but it was not the cold.

3 3 3

Murphy Pendleton's eyes shot open. He brought a hand to his aching forehead and raised himself from his cell bunk. Outside the night was loud with wind and thunder. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.

Down the hall, Anne Cunningham sat at her desk, the only light coming from the lamp atop it. She sighed, filling out paperwork, when the door opened. An older man walked in, dressed in a brown overcoat and slacks. He removed his hat, revealing a gray beard and hard, dark eyes.

"Excuse me," he said, "do you have a minute?"

Anne raised her gaze to him, frowning. He offered her a smile. "My name is Douglas Cartland," he said. "I'm a private detective."

"I can't help you," Anne said immediately. "I'm a police officer, Mr. Cartland. And, besides, I don't like people snooping around where they shouldn't."

Douglas cleared his throat. "It's about the Butcher," he said, and Anne froze up. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"How do you know about that?"

"I used to work on the force, too," he said. "I have my ways. Now, I'm looking for a girl. She may be his next victim."

Anne clutched her pen tightly and finally relented. "Fine. Have a seat. We're going to—" Suddenly the lamp flickered, dying, leaving them in darkness. Murphy Pendleton shuffled over to the front of his cell, gripping the bars, tense.

"That's not normal," Anne said, rising, feeling for the butt of her gun behind her back. "I can already tell this is going to be one hell of a night."

**?**


	23. Coda

_(A/N: This is the original first chapter that I discarded halfway through. It's unfinished and strictly for your enjoyment seeing how the concept differed initially. This was before the release of _Shattered Memories, _and therefore there were a number of plot points that were ultimately changed, although you won't see the majority of them here. In any case, thanks for reading.)_

**~The Whimsical Adventures of Princess Heart!~**

**EPISODE ONE: Princess Heart to the Rescue!**

**(I)**

He just could not go on. With every breath he felt his life dwindling, fading away. Placing a shaky, pale hand against the side of the dirt wall, he gulped down as much air as his lungs could handle, although it seemed he was losing more than he was gaining.

His other hand was curled around a thin, tattered book. It contrasted greatly against his dark attire with its dull, crimson hue. He tightened his grip upon it and stumbled forward into the fog of the graveyard, aware that his time was short.

_Almost there_, he thought. _Just need to find the body_…

He had been here before, quite some time ago, so although his thoughts were muddled, he knew at least where it was. Exhuming the body would prove most difficult with his decreased stamina and strength, but he was the only one left who was capable of ending this madness. Staggering through the mist, however, he was unaware that he was being followed.

The man was unhealthy, having been malnourished for the past few months. He was weak, and, running a hand over his bald head, he knew that his sight had begun to fail him. Escaping had been difficult enough, but he could not turn back now.

He passed the rusted gates that led into the graveyard, the caw of a crow searing the air. "I've made it," he breathed, but once he drew close enough, his heart sank. The grave was barren. The wooden coffin lay open in a dirt pit, and a shovel was cast to the side. Someone had already taken the body. Someone had already done it!

The man crumpled to the ground before it, the volume slipping out of his hand and spilling open as it touched down on the earth. He let out a horrible, despondent moan, and then a figure approached from behind, his image disfigured by the fog.

"Despair," he said to the mist, and the man touched his crimson tome and closed his eyes.

**(II)**

Golden sunlight streamed through the open blinds of the window, bathing the room in a healthy, almost divine light. It was a cluttered room, with stuffed animals and clothes strewn about, and the radio on the shelf beside the bed clicked to life while displaying **7:00**.

"_Good morning once again, Ashfield! We're back on, and listening to your requests! So while you're all heading for work or sipping that coffee, send in those calls! In the meantime, lend an ear to Seven Time's Wonder!_"

The vague contour beneath the comforters of the bed stirred; a sandy-blonde-haired head rose out to the intelligible rock music that had begun to jam out of the radio. Casting a sheepish glance at the clock, the girl sighed and then yawned loudly, flopping up into a sitting position. Raising her hands, she began to strum at invisible guitar strings, working with the music. "Just another day," she muttered, and, yawning again, stepped off the bed and wandered into the restroom across the hall, fiddling with the shoulder strap of her _I watch out for smoke alarms_ nightshirt.

Thirty minutes-or-so later, Heather Cheryl Mason walked into the den of the apartment and stopped to examine herself in the mirror at the end of the hall. She wore a plain, black, sleeveless shirt that allowed for the slightest of midriffs to show, and this was coupled with a pair of faded jeans. Rounding it out were her faithful black tennis, and she mindlessly adjusted her orange wrist cuffs before flashing herself a nice smile and entering the kitchen.

The television was on, and her father, Harry, was busily flipping a pancake while the anchorwoman yapped on about what a beautiful day it was going to be. "Hey, Dad," Heather greeted, and he cast her a smile as she kissed him on the cheek.

"I didn't know we had any mix left," she remarked while traveling to the dinner table and stuffing a textbook into her book bag.

"I didn't, either, until Pookie was fiddling around in the pantry and drew my attention." He removed the dishtowel from around his neck and frowned. "You're not staying to eat?"

"I can't today, sorry," she replied, and placed her book bag over her head. "Where _is_ Pookie, by the way?" A mew was her response, and a black cat leapt onto the table beside her and received a pat on the head. "I have to go meet Eileen at the Happy Burger."

Harry sighed and turned off the television set on the counter. "Well, maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

**(III)**

The Happy Burger was only several blocks away from the Daisy Villa Apartments, and here was where many of the students of Ashfield High School gathered before-and-after school. Eileen Galvin idled outside among the rest of the students, scratching at her arm warmers and adjusting the butterfly clip in her hair. She rocked back-and-forth on the heels of her tennis shoes, drumming her fingers on her book bag.

Her dazzling emerald eyes darted this way and that, although her face was as blank as could be. She was humming a song that had been on the radio that very same morning, and Heather came up beside her and glanced at her watch.

"Hey, Eileen." The brunette turned, stared at Heather for a moment, then another, and finally grinned.

"Heather!" she exclaimed while clapping her hands together. "What's up?"

The other girl shrugged. "Uh, I don't know." She looked around at the block. The snow from yesterday was in the process of melting, and the sky was overcast, although rays of light peeked through here and there. She hugged herself. "I think I should've worn a jacket."

"Yeah," Eileen agreed. She picked at the small gray one she wore over her shoulders, and then sighed. "This sucks."

"What does?"

"I don't know. I nearly got ran over when I was leaving my house."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Um, I think we should start heading off, don't you think?"

"I guess so."

And so the two girls, who had been best friends since the third grade, started off to Ashfield High School, a looming shadow on the horizon. They were unaware of the small orb of light that was trailing, them, however, even as it flew into a street light beside them.

**(IV)**

He saw her the instant she came into view. In fact, it was impossible _not_ to see her. Her blouse, her floral skirt, her chestnut hair clipped back—he could have pointed her out among a crowd of thousands of people. But those were just details. It was that imaginary light he had come to notice, the one that surrounded her like a nimbus. No one else had that aura, that beautiful aura. He felt a light smile touch his lips. Mary Shepherd. She was beautiful.

Then, as if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked at him. It was nothing more than a passing glance as she went on her way, cradling her books in the crook of her arm, but their eyes locked in that one moment, and she smiled as well.

"Goddamn, James, if you're so in love with the girl stop goggling and go sweep her off her feet already!" James brushed a strand of straw-colored hair out of his eyes and looked up at the other boy who was standing beside the bench, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his brunet hair combed messily at the front.

"I'm not in love with her, Henry," James replied quietly as he sat straight and adjusted his jacket.

"You could've fooled me," Henry said as he took a seat beside his friend. "You've been gawking at her like an idiot for the past few months, and I know she's been doing the same to you. Hell, do you two even talk?"

"Um…"

"Don't give me that romantic bullshit about how 'more than enough is said in when we look into each other's eyes'. She's obviously into you, so why not go and pick the fruit while it's still ripe?"

James smiled wanly and stood, pulling his backpack up with him. "I appreciate your help, Henry, but… it just isn't the right time."

"That's the oldest excuse in the book, and you know it," Henry said while doing the same. He peered out at the front expanse of Ashfield High School, shrugged, and turned to the main building. "Let's get going. The bell's going to ring in, like, two minutes."

"Yeah."

As they walked on, James sparked conversation.

"So, what about that new camera?" he asked, glancing at Henry as the brunet blew out an exasperated whistle.

"Too expensive for the piss I make at Happy Burger, and, of course, good old son-of-a-bitch Will says its trash," was the bitter response. Henry choked out a broken laugh. "To be honest with you, though, I don't know if I would've had the heart to get rid of ol' Jim."

He stopped and swung his backpack down to their feet. After fishing through it, Henry produced an older camera from the depths, one that seemed to have seen better days. He frowned.

"Poor Jim. He's dying, James, but he's been faithful."

"How can you tell, exactly?"

"You just can. It's kind of like, the relationship between a mother and her child. You can just tell."

The bell rang.

**(V)**

In a nearby diner, not too far off from the campus, a coated man noisily smacked his lips after taking a sip of his latte. "How ridiculous," he spat while tipping off his bowler hat and revealing a mop of butterscotch hair underneath. Bangs disfigured the rimless spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose, spectacles that he pushed up with a sneer.

"To think it would be out here, of all places, and at such a time, too…" Grimacing, he raised his emerald-hilted cane in a twirl. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be complaining. Just a little while more of this and—"

"Sir, your bagel is here."

The man savagely glared at the waitress for her interruption of his aside, but he nevertheless put on the sweetest of smiles and accepted the glazed sweetmeat as it was placed before him. He stared daggers at the haughty waitress' back as she walked off, and then stared even sharper daggers at her rear. Smirking devilishly, he took a monstrous bite out of his bagel and then proceeded to dot the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"Then again, maybe today will be just a bit better than what I expected…" Laughing, he placed his hat back atop his head and departed, twirling his cane illustriously with the bagel in his free hand, and leaving no money whatsoever on the tabletop.

**(VI)**

"Hey, Claudia." The girl timidly raised her head from the book, blue-tinted, horn-rimmed glasses nearly blotting out her eyes. Eileen and Heather stood over her, the former performing a happy little wave. Around them the hustle-and-bustle of the lunch crowd played itself out, and they sat down with their respective Styrofoam trays.

"H-Hi," Claudia replied, pulling her candy-cane sweater just a little tighter around herself. She returned to her book and Heather popped open her milk carton.

"Did you guys hear about that murder a few weeks ago?" she asked after some moments.

Eileen scooped up a spoonful of imitation mashed potatoes and plopped it in her mouth. "Do you mean the guy with the numbers?" she queried after swallowing the mushy substance.

"Fourteen…" Claudia commented offhandedly, and Heather nodded.

"Yeah, I don't know why I brought it up. I guess it's just a little creepy." She blinked, scrunched up her nose, and frowned. "Um, could you two excuse me, please? I have to go tinkle."

"Okay, good luck," Eileen said cheerily, and Heather left, leaving her book bag beside her friends.

Henry and James entered the cafeteria, just barely passing Heather as she went into the restroom at the far end of the place. The cafeteria was usually very hectic at lunch, and today was no different. Each line swerved out into the open, and it didn't help that the two were twenty minutes late. "Ah, shit. Mondays suck, but this just plain _sucks_," Henry growled, screwing up his hair in frustration. "I'm hungry, man!"

James shrugged weakly and was about to say something when a pale, pink-nailed hand slid onto his shoulder. "Hey, James." The two spun around and were greeted by several girls, the front most of which retracted her hand and giggled. She smiled seductively and brushed her platinum hair away, the tips of which were hi-lighted pink.

"Maria," said James stoically, and the girl giggled again, signaling for her posse to do the same. Meanwhile, Henry could do nothing but roll his eyes in disgust. "Wonderful," he said, "the whore patrol."

"What was that?" snapped the girl to Maria's right. She stepped away from the group and gave Henry a look to equal his own. He knew who she was right off-the-bat—the previous year's Health class could be thanked for that.

"You heard me, Velasquez," he said, "_the whore patrol_. You're all whores, and you're on patrol. Not too difficult to comprehend."

"Oh, Townshend…!" Before anything rash could be done, Maria sheepishly swung an arm to bar the Hispanic girl's path.

"No reason to get riled up, Cynthia. It's pretty obvious that Townshend here is simply experiencing his very first _period_! _How cute_!" The entire "whore patrol" exploded into furious chortling. Cynthia's mouth was a grim line, and she kept her eyes on Henry, who merely waited for the laughing to subside.

"At least I don't parade the information around as if it were a national emergency," he responded coolly, silencing the girls.

Maria seethed. "What are you talking about, you—,"

"That's enough," James commanded, stepping in-between the two. "Just go, Maria, and take your gang with you." Maria fumed silently, but the sudden authority in the young man's voice was too powerful to resist, and so she backed away, her posse doing the same.

"This isn't over, Townshend," she warned before storming off and swinging her hips in dramatic fashion. The click of all their heels waned as they left the cafeteria, and Cynthia stole one last glance at the boys, especially Henry, before following.

"Oh, come _on_, James," Henry whined, "I had that in the bag. It's kind of hard to imagine that she and Mary are _twins_, though. And what's the same, James, she's after _you_."

The blond could only nervously scratch his head.

**(VII)**

The restroom was thankfully empty, so Heather hurried into the nearest stall, and, after wiping the toilet seat down, undid her pants and sat down for her tinkle. It was while she did this that a strange orb of light floated upwards from her pocket. It sneezed and specks of light flew in all directions. Heather had not yet noticed the apparition.

"_Hey_!" it squealed in such a high pitch that it was almost inaudible. Heather did not hear, and rose from the toilet. She flushed it and was in the process of zipping her jeans when the orb once again attempted to get her attention. "_Hey_! _Listen_!" Heather hummed merrily to herself and reached for the stall door latch when the orb rushed right into her eye.

The teenager cried out and nearly tripped over the toilet, but she managed to catch herself via the stall's walls. She blinked and fixed her gaze on the huffing ball of gold that was before her. "_Finally_!" it exclaimed. "_Are you deaf or somethin'_? _I've been calling you forever_!"

"W-What… the hell are _you_…?" Heather asked while tentatively advancing upon the orb with a poking finger. The orb sighed, flew around the finger, and popped Heather in the head again.

"What was that for?"

"_Just be quiet and listen!_"

The door to the restroom swung open, and the patter of footsteps and random giggling alerted the two that they were no longer alone. Heather glanced at the orb warily and it responded by swerving around to hide behind the girl's head.

"So, like, me and Kelly were at the mall yesterday, and _you won't believe who we saw_!"

"Oh my gosh, _who_?"

"_Brandon_."

"No way…"

Heather rolled her eyes when suddenly pain pierced her ear. "_We don't have time to dawdle, Princess! I must speak with you!_"

"What are you talking about?" Heather whispered back. "And why did you call me 'Princess'?"

"_All will be explained soon enough, but we must get out of here first! What we are to discuss is not for the ears of… well, those people!_"

The two girls outside the stall giggled like fools and went about babbling. "Alright, alright," Heather said. "Let me just get out of here." Composing herself, she left the stall and was out of the restroom. She returned to her table


End file.
